On the Importance and Contemporaneity of the Eremitical Vocation (Part 2)

 [[Hi Sister Laurel, I was surprised to find your blog. To be totally honest, I thought that hermits died out a long time ago. It is not that I don't believe someone should be able to go and cut themselves off from the world of relationships if they want to. I believe everyone should be able to do whatever they want so long as no one is hurt, but why would the Catholic Church elevate something like this to the point of consecration? I am sure that most people I know would be quite surprised to find out people choose to live as hermits today, and even more surprised to hear the Catholic Church supports and even celebrates such a choice. After all, the church is about community, and a hermit's life is not, right? So my questions are about whether or not eremitical life is anachronistic. Doesn't it really belong to another time, but not to the 21st Century? Is it meaningful (is it relevant)? Does it have anything to offer the non-hermit (or those who seek to become hermits) besides an escape from everyday difficulties --- if it even does that!? Can eremitical life be justified? Should anyone (you) even try?]]

I sincerely hope the first part of this answer (Importance and Contemporaneity of Eremitical Life) was generally helpful. What I tried to do was to outline the way in which I and the hermits I know or have read regard this vocation and its general importance in the 21C, or any century really. What I would like to say more about here are the questions of this vocation's justifiability and ecclesiality, whether or not it is escapist, and in what senses that word might or definitely does not apply. I also want to say something about the notion of freedom you raise in your questions, and whether hermits cut themselves off from the world, or from the world of relationships, and in what sense those actions are true. Many of these have been addressed in other posts over the years, and I'll try to add some links where I can, but perhaps it will be helpful to write about these again within the context of your basic questions about eremitism's justifiability and contemporary relevance.

I have argued that this vocation is not only not anachronistic, that is, it doesn't only belong to past centuries in terms of relevance, but that it is an important and, in fact, a prophetic vocation for the contemporary Church and world. The Church herself recognized this when, in response to Bishop Remi de Roo's intervention at Vatican II it revised the Code of Canon Law and added canon 603, thus allowing for the first time in universal law, the vocation of the solitary hermit as an ecclesial vocation and call to the consecrated state of life. In your question, you recognized the significance of such a move on the Church's part when you asked why the Catholic Church would raise eremitical life to such a place in the Church's life. 

Bishop de Roo had been the bishop protector for about a dozen hermits in British Columbia. These men had left their various monasteries and accepted laicization after many years in solemn vows because they experienced a call to greater solitude and had to leave their monasteries to follow this call. (Let me be clear; these men were often leaders in their monasteries and were not unhappy with monastic life, their vows, monasteries, or anything of the sort. They simply had experienced a call to greater solitude, and found that this call could not be accommodated under the monastery's own (or proper) law. Eventually, they formed a laura or colony of hermits. Because Bishop de Roo knew these men, their motivations, sensibilities, theologies, and vocations, he eventually wrote an intervention at the Second Vatican Council listing the important positive reasons the church should recognize this vocation as a state of perfection. The reasons he provided in his intervention are listed in, Visibility and Betrayal and at least one earlier blog post in late 2006 or 2007. 

Canon 603 and Ecclesiality:

One way of summarizing all of this history and its meaningfulness, is to point out that c 603 governs a form of life that is ecclesial; that is, it is a form of life that is not only part of the Church's patrimony, but is part of the Church's own holiness and contributes to the Church's health, both generally and specifically in terms of her prayer life, religious life, mission, and ministry. The canonical hermit's life reminds the Church and other religious (especially those in apostolic congregations) that before active ministry there must come a profound relationship with God. It is this relationship that allows the religious man or woman to love others as they ought to be loved in the midst of apostolic ministry. It is also this specific relationship that is mediated along with any other forms of giving that the religious does. The hermit's vocation does the same for cloistered religious and reminds them of the real witness of their lives, namely, a life in community lived for the sake of God and God's place in this world. And of course, the hermit does this for the entire Church, reminding us all that God comes first and can fulfill lives that are not wealthy, powerful, or possessed of much prestige in worldly terms. As I have noted recently, while the hermit may do some limited apostolic ministry, it is the inner journey to union with God that is essential to and definitive for the vocation.

Ecclesial vocations aren't simply lived within the Church; they are also lived for the sake of the Church, that it might truly be the church Jesus calls it to be. Those hermits who accept canonical standing with public vows and consecrations mediated by the local Bishop also embrace this dimension of the eremitical vocation in a public way. Non-canonical hermits live their vocations within the church, but they do not necessarily accept this dimension we call "ecclesiality" in the same way. Canonical eremitism, of course, is not the only ecclesial vocation in the Church, but the emphasis on the inner journey made possible by assiduous prayer, penance, stricter separation from the realm that is resistant to Christ or to Truth, and by the silence of solitude, sets eremitical life somewhat apart from the others, and allows it to emphasize something the others accentuate to a lesser degree or in a different way. As noted in earlier posts, it is the inner journey that allows us to confirm that the Gospel of Jesus' resurrection and God's unconditional Love, from which nothing including sin and godless death can separate us, are real and encounterable today. This allows canonical eremitical life to serve these other vocations and the Church as a whole. When we speak about the relevance or contemporaneity of the hermit today, ecclesiality is an important way of describing this.

Eremitical Life and Freedom:

In your question, you said you believed that anyone should be free to do whatever they felt like, so long as no one was hurt in the process. I believe that is the notion of freedom many people in today's world have. Let me point out that this is not the idea of freedom Christianity understands or embodies. Instead, Christianity defines freedom as the power to be the persons God calls us to be. This, in turn, is made possible by the Holy Spirit and God's unconditional love for us. Hermits live a regular life of prayer and penance, study, lectio, and limited ministry because they live a life focused on their relationship with God and on becoming the persons God calls them to be. One of the most important witnesses the hermit gives others is the fullness of life that is possible whenever God is put first. Some who read here know that one of the persons I have contended with most often over the years is an online self-designated hermit who calls herself a victim soul and writes almost interminably about the suffering she is experiencing. I have sympathy for her, but it is my understanding of eremitical life that it is not about suffering or being what has sometimes been called a victim soul. It is about living life with God. Yes, there will be suffering, just as there is with any life in this world, but eremitism is not a life OF suffering; it is a life of joy, meaning, and fulfillment --- countercultural as each of those actually is.

Canonical hermits (and likely all authentic hermits) are truly free. They are not free to do anything they want, of course. Their lives are constrained by vows involving the main areas of life, including wealth, power, and sex, and still they live lives I recognize as fulfilled because they are full of life, love, and meaning. They live according to a daily schedule, maintaining regularity and balance. They live a stricter separation from "the world," which includes but does not primarily mean separation from much of God's good creation; and yet, they are interested in, committed to, and engaged with that world for the sake of its well-being and the furtherance of God's Kingdom, nonetheless. All of these point to a fundamental freedom the hermit has to live a life as full and meaningful as possible within the framework of a desert context. Freedom, from this perspective, is definitely not about doing whatever one likes so long as no one is hurt. It is about living a responsible freedom where one's life is not only received daily as a gift of God, but also is given daily for God's sake and the sake of all that God loves and holds as precious.

Relationships, Escapism, and Eremitical Engagement:

Most hermits are not recluses, and even recluses in the Catholic Church are only allowed to be so within the context of a loving religious community that provides for such unique vocations. (The last I heard of recluses, only the Camaldolese and the Carthusians were allowed to have recluses. The last Camaldolese recluse I know of died a number of years ago in Big Sur, while the most famous might be Nazarena, a recluse living with the Camaldolese nuns in Rome.) All human beings need to be loved and to love, and for that reason, we all need others in our lives. We hermits say that "God Alone is Enough" for us, and we mean that in two related ways. First, only God is capable of completing us as human beings. Only God is sufficient for this. We are made for God, who is the ground and source of life, love, meaning, truth, beauty, and truly personal existence. Secondly,  our openness to and need for God make us open and responsive to all that mediates God to us in the incredibly varied ways the created world and other beings do that. What this saying does NOT mean is that human beings do not need other human beings, or can become truly human in complete isolation from others. Eremitical life has never meant to affirm such a notion of human being or of the nature of eremitical solitude. 

In my writing on this blog over the past 18 years, I have always drawn a clear line between isolation and solitude. I distinguish these two because one is life-giving and the other can deal death to the human being. I am personally sensitive to the distinction between these two and associate isolation with alienation and forced separation from the community of others. Hermits are more or less physically isolated from others; eremitical solitude requires this in order to spend time with God and the inner journey to healing, wholeness, and holiness we are each called to. However, we are not usually personally isolated from others, though we may not be as social as most people or able to spend much time with the people who are important to us. We are assisted in living this solitude by the Church and her liturgical and sacramental life, by spiritual directors, pastors, members of the larger community of faith, family members, physicians, and many others. I include among this significant group of people, especially other religious, and members of the virtual laura I am part of, as well as those I do spiritual direction with. It is not that I interact with these people every day or even every week or month of my life, but they are all a significant presence, and each one helps to focus my life on the defining relationship with God that makes me who I am and who I am called to be.

You suggested not only that a hermit's life is cut off from the world of relationships, but that it is not about community. I would argue that it is about community, though it is lived in eremitical solitude. In fact, I would argue (and have often done that here) that eremitical solitude is a rare and unique form of community dedicated to building the human family and the community of faith from the most important and original relationship extant, namely, that between the human being with the rest of creation and God. As for escape from everyday difficulties, there is no way c 603 life allows for or encourages that. The (canonical) hermit is self-supporting, publicly responsible, committed to the Church and society, and engaged on their behalf. She lives with the same limitations any other person does and perhaps a few more besides. What is most important to remember about this vocation is that it is identified by the Camaldolese in terms of the Privilege of Love. Indeed, I am not going to run for political office or travel to (or even stay home to do) a job forty hours or more a week, but, because I am called to stricter separation from "the world" in the specialized way c 603 uses that term**, it also means I am committed to God's will for the whole of this larger world. Thus, I stay updated on current events, work to ensure my education remains up to date, and I engage in whatever ways I can within the limits of my state of life to make our world all that God calls it to be.

So, this is the second part of my answer to your question. I hope it clarifies some things and raises more questions for the future. As always, if I have been unclear, please feel free to get back to me with comments and questions. Again, thanks for your questions. I enjoyed thinking about them freshly. I will post this before adding the additional links, so in the meantime, you can look at the list of topics on the right-hand column of the blog for additional information. All my best.

** The Church recognizes that "the world" in the c 603 phrase, stricter separation from the world, refers to that which is resistant to Christ, and not first of all to the larger world we identify with God's good creation. As a result, while the hermit is thus more strictly separated from aspects even of God's good creation, she is also well able to engage with and on behalf of that world within the limits of her state of life.

On the Importance and Contemporaneity of the Eremitical Vocation (Part 1)

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I was surprised to find your blog. To be totally honest, I thought that hermits died out a long time ago. It is not that I don't believe someone should be able to go and cut themselves off from the world of relationships if they want to. I believe everyone should be able to do whatever they want so long as no one is hurt, but why would the Catholic Church elevate something like this to the point of consecration? 

I am sure that most people I know would be quite surprised to find out people choose to live as hermits today, and even more surprised to hear the Catholic Church supports and even celebrates such a choice. After all, the church is about community, and a hermit's life is not, right? So my questions are about whether or not eremitical life is anachronistic. Doesn't it really belong to another time, but not to the 21st Century? Is it meaningful (is it relevant)? Does it have anything to offer the non-hermit (or those who seek to become hermits) besides an escape from everyday difficulties --- if it even does that!? Can eremitical life be justified? Should anyone (you) even try?]]

Thanks for your questions. I once said almost exactly the same thing about hermit life having died out. Similarly, I once thought that contemplative life, more generally, was a "waste of skin." Clearly, I am in a much different place today! In much of what I have written over the past two or three months, for instance, I have tried to maintain a balance between a potentially disedifying focus on personal details and the way my own experience illustrates the more universal meaning and significance of the eremitical vocation in today's Church and world. My own eremitical journey, my own journey with and to God, especially in the inner work required by, and associated with personal growth and healing, is at the center of everything I have written, and what is remarkable to me is the way that experience comports with that of contemplatives, hermits and mystics throughout the centuries. In some ways, that journey is precisely what makes me a contemplative and hermit. The nature of it is what also makes my journey a mystical one

But why is this important? You are correct in posing the question of a hermit being anachronistic (i.e., displaced in time). This is the overarching question posed to contemporary hermits by the 21st Century generally -- both by the Church and the larger world. It is the basic argument I hear reflected in others' questions (and my own as well): "If your vocation is anachronistic, then it is meaningless, irrelevant, and has no place in today's world and Church." Of course, most people never actually say this or ask the question outright. They tend just to look puzzled as I explain I am a consecrated (or a Catholic) hermit, and you can see them trying to work out what I have just said in terms of the church and world they know and understand. Usually, the next question I get after explaining I am a hermit is a disbelieving, "So (pause), what is a hermit?"--- as if the two of us can't possibly be thinking of the same reality, not in today's day and age!! (I can imagine them thinking, "Maybe the meaning of this changed with Vatican II or something!!")

And so, I explain a bit of the history of the hermit life and the establishment of c 603 within that. And I wait for other questions. "What do you do all day?" is usually one of the early ones. "Wouldn't you rather...?" tends to be another, along with, "How many of you are there?" once the conversation actually gets going. And it is a deep hope of mine that such a conversation will get going. After all, if, on the other hand, this vocation is meaningful and has a place in today's Church and world, that means it is meaningful not only for the hermit, but for God, for the Church itself, and for God's larger creation as well." Unfortunately,  most people tend to smile politely and move to other topics. So, I am really grateful you have asked what you have, because as I understand things, it is up to the hermit to explore the eremitical life and these associated questions as we come to a coherent sense of their answers. No one but the hermit can do this in quite the same way!

Most hermits I know firmly believe their vocations are important, not only for what they mean for the hermit him/herself, but for the way they witness to others in our Church and world about really foundational human and societal questions and needs. Merton once wrote that hermits say something fundamental about the relation of nature and grace, and I think he was exactly right. The fundamental truth that human beings are made for God and that God wills to dwell with and within us is the truth Merton was speaking of. He recognized that human beings have a "made-for-God" quality that is rooted in God's own will for creation and for Godself. In other words, human beings are incomplete and less than truly human without God. At the same time, God has chosen to turn to us so that his love might be known and fulfilled in this way. Using an older language to say this, nature is perfected in grace, and grace intends to reveal itself fully, even exhaustively, in nature. 

In a Church where apostolic ministry is (quite rightly) esteemed, and the relevance and value of the contemplative calling is, at least tacitly, questioned by even some of the highest up in the Church, eremitical life is, again, a radically countercultural vocation. In a world where individualism reigns, consumerism is rampant, and, far too often, the accumulation of wealth and privilege are supposed to be the marks of real success, the eremitical life again stands as a radically countercultural witness and challenge. The same is true in a world where privacy and discretion are sacrificed on the altar of superficial "belonging" via "friending" or vlogging and blogging. This means that the eremitical vocation, besides being countercultural, is a prophetic calling; it witnesses to deep truth in a world hungry for it, and in need of the wisdom derived from it. At least that's what I and the other hermits I know believe. To apply an observation St Paul made in another context, if the hermit vocation to witness to God and the human seeking of God is not truly serious and seriously true, then we hermits are the greatest fools of all!

Hermits' lives are not meaningful merely because we pray for others, though undoubtedly we do that, and yes, that (we claim!) is significant. Hermit's lives are meaningful because they are dedicated to seeking God and living with, in, and from God, and moreover, they are meaningful because this seeking is engaged in for the sake of others (first of all for God's sake and then for that of the whole world) as well as for the hermit's own sake. What we say to others is that every prayer, every act of attentiveness and responsiveness to life and love, every gesture of generosity, or decision leading to self-sacrifice. and service, every moment spent by anyone in this world cultivating the values at the heart of the Gospel, making neighbors and friends of those distant from or "other" than we are, is meaningful and contributes to the sovereign life of God-With-Us we Christians call the Kingdom of God. Hermits (authentic Christian hermits) say with their lives, that God wills to dwell with us here and now and that where that is allowed and even seriously pursued, human life becomes what it is meant to be, joyful, fulfilled, simple, loving, free, hopeful, and engaged for the sake of the whole of God's creation.

And hermits witness to more than this as well.  In the inner journey we make while seeking God, we explore the questions of meaning and meaninglessness, the existence and nature of the God we seek to know and be known by, questions about prayer and suffering, the nature of the human person, the importance of relationships in every life, personal integrity (or holiness), etc. --- questions every serious person asks in varying ways throughout their lives. We don't ordinarily do this in the formal academic way theologians do (though some of us may also do that); we do it experientially. Recently, a couple of diocesan hermits responded to an observation I made about my blog and the questions I get. "You write about the same things again and again, but you [continue to] do so from a[n ever] deeper place (or in a deeper way)." I sincerely hope that is true because if it is, it means this blog is a witness to the nature of my own journey with, in, and for God and what is precious to God. In any case, the inner journey is a journey of profound questioning; it poses the question we human beings are as well as those we pose. It is the journey of faith and doubt, woundedness and healing, despair or near despair, and ultimate hope. Hermits make this journey with Christ into the darkness of sinful (godless) death and the blazing light of resurrection. We seek God in every dark and wounded place, especially within our own hearts and minds, our own memories and deep aspirations, and to the extent we do this and find (or are found by!) God in our searching and hunger,  we proclaim, with St Paul et al., the truth of the Christian Gospel, namely, there is no place and nothing at all that can separate us from the love of God.

Individuals within the Church have always made this journey. Lay persons, religious, priests, contemplatives, hermits, mystics, have all made this inner journey with Christ into darkness and death, and discovered the reality of Jesus' resurrection and the truth of Romans 8:31-39. I would argue that there is nothing whatsoever to justify such a journey, or such vocations, apart from this seeking of God and the truth of the Gospel. At the same time, I have to note that making this journey so that others can know the truth of Jesus' resurrection and the depth and expansiveness of God's love, not as a matter of doctrine but as one of personal experience, is imperative for the vitality of contemporary faith and the life of the Church. So, when you ask what the hermit does for the non-hermit, I would need to say that all of this is applicable. I don't know a single person, believer or non-believer, who doesn't wonder if their life is meaningful, if they are loved or really capable of loving, if "this is all there is," or how is it one lives life in a way that truly honors who they are most fundamentally. The hermit says with her life that even when stripped of the various things the contemporary world believes make our lives meaningful (health, wealth, prestige, power, appreciated societal and service roles, etc), our lives can be full, truly free, given for the sake of others, and ultimately meaningful. Moreover, such stripping can lead to persons with the perspective needed to move our world forward into God's own future.

I'll return to your comments and questions (especially the nature of freedom, on escapism, and on the creation of eremitism as an ecclesial vocation) with another post. Consider this the beginning of an answer on the meaningfulness of the eremitic vocation. If it raises different questions for you, please get back to me as soon as you can. It would be helpful for the way I put together a second post.

On the Question of Despair as Mortal Sin: Looking Again at Dimensions of my Journey into Existential Solitude

[[Sister Laurel, in your recent post, you seemed to be saying that God would be present even if one reached a point of despair and committed suicide. I thought despair was always a mortal sin, and it never occurred to me that Jesus had reached a point of despair because he never sinned. If you reached a point of despair, then didn't you also commit a mortal sin?]]

Thanks for your question. It is important to distinguish between the feeling of despair or hopelessness and the act of despairing or giving up all hope. We also need to be clear that we take seriously what the Church teaches today, and not only in the past regarding despair and suicide. Remember that the Church has always been explicit about the voluntary character of despair as a mortal sin. She said, essentially,  [[Despair (Latin desperare, to be hopeless) is ethically regarded as the voluntary and complete abandonment of all hope of saving one’s soul and of having the means required for that end. It is not a passive state of mind: on the contrary, it involves a positive act of the will by which a person deliberately gives over any expectation of ever reaching eternal life.]] 

This definition stands, and at the same the Church today has a greater sensitivity to the psychological conditions that can eventuate in acting out of despair. After all, most people who are truly despairing are so because they have been overwhelmed by circumstances and can no longer see clearly or act freely. They feel despair, which is not what the Church considers a sin. Remember that Par. 2282b  of the CCC reads as follows: [[Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide.]]

In relation to the post you reference, I am thinking of what the Church teaches about suicides here as she approaches, cautiously and prudently, the ultimately reassuring conclusion I wrote about in light of Jesus' cry of abandonment.  What I said was,  [[(Hermits) make this choice [to make this inner journey] so that they might experience genuine hope rooted in God and the Christ Event for the sake of God's Kingdom and Gospel. Doctrine, per se, while important, is not enough for the life of the Body of Christ. Interpretations of the cross by others are a critical start, but what is essential if one is to really witness to the truth of the Gospel to others, and bring them to genuine hope, is the truth of our own experience -- even, and perhaps especially when that experience is one of journeying into the shadow of death and despair or near-despair. Recently, I said to my director, "I would not wish this particular journey on anyone, and yet, what I have come to as a result of this very journey, I want for everyone!"  

In the Catechism of the Catholic Church (Par 2283), we also hear: [[We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide for the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for those persons who have taken their own lives.]] While I was not suicidal in the personal journey I referred to in my earlier post, because of the nature of that journey and its roots in past trauma and the search for healing, it definitely happened in incredible anguish and the shadow of death and despair or "near-despair". My sense is that Jesus' journey to Golgotha and beyond took him beyond this experience of mine into godless death itself, and still he remained open to God. 

The words of the catechism's reassurance is rarely far from me: "In ways known to Godself alone. . .." These words apply to so many things that seem absurd, incomprehensible, or overwhelming to us! They were also consciously present to me some of the time during the journey I have referred to; at other times, I now believe, they were an unconscious and strengthening pedal tone that made the journey possible at all. Even more strongly with me was Paul's similar assurance from Romans 8:37-39: No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

In other words, I did not lose hope (though sometimes what I felt made it seem a very near thing indeed!). Instead, I both drew on hope and sought it out in a deliberate search for healing. The irony or paradox here is that faith and hope are required to undertake and engage in such a journey to the depths of darkness and hopelessness in search of God, of one's truest self, and for the greater faith, hope, and abundant life to which this leads. 

Another way of saying this is to affirm that such a journey requires the trust of faith and the courage of hope to look despair full in the face, experience the pain and anguish of that reality as it may have existed in one's past, grieve it, reconcile oneself with it, and find both God and one's deepest self in the process. As I understand it, this inner journey is an essential part of the hermit's asceticism and "dying to self," albeit the "false self" that so distorts and limits our true humanity. Again, I am grateful to God for inspiring this journey and for sustaining me (and those accompanying me in various ways) throughout it. As noted above, I would not wish this particular journey on anyone, and yet, what I have come to as a result of this very journey, I want for everyone! It was not anathema (a curse) but truly a blessing.

Followup on the Relation of Physical Solitude to Existential Solitude

[[Sister Laurel, I was really struck by your assertion that eremitical solitude involves but is not about physical solitude, that it is about the existential solitude of the journey to the center of our being, where we meet ourselves and God. I was also struck by the way that ties in with the hiddenness of the hermit vocation and how it is that whether you are with people or not, your real vocation is solitary and hidden. I don't mean any offense, but have you written about this before this last month, and if not, why not? (Maybe it would be better to ask you what made it possible for you to write in this way now!) 

Other hermits I have read or heard have stressed how someone is no hermit if they are known by others or spend time with them, or wear a habit, or use a recognizable title, and so forth. They stress the externals a lot, and for them, physical solitude is the key to determining whether someone is really a hermit or not. But you have sliced through all that in a couple of sentences in your last post. Is it your opinion that a hermit must be measured by the inner journey they undertake, rather than the degree of physical solitude they live? That's what I hear you saying. ]]

What excellent questions! Your first one about why I am writing this way now is probably not one I can answer to your satisfaction because it involves a personal experience that happened at the beginning of Lent, and I am not yet sure what I can or want to say about that. You'll need to be patient with me regarding that part of things. Still, I have tried to write about the essential hiddenness of this vocation and also to distinguish between physical solitude and a more existential solitude from fairly early on. I first used the term existential solitude around 2013, at least as part of a piece that includes that label. And earlier than that, I wrote about the quest for authentic selfhood, and the inner journey one is called to make, even if I failed to use the actual term, " existential solitude". As I looked over the articles with the label "essential hiddenness", however, the things I have been writing about this past month are present, but without the clarity of my recent posts. And that makes sense because sometimes we can only see things clearly or have the freedom to say what we need to once we have travelled beyond the struggle to a new place and perspective.

I don't want to undervalue the importance of physical solitude to the hermit vocation. The past year and a half, especially, and to a somewhat lesser degree the time since the pandemic, has been marked by very significant degrees of solitude of this type. To varying degrees, it is a prerequisite for the inner journey the hermit is called to make. Even so, physical solitude is not the reason for the vocation and must not be absolutized as some seem wont to do. As I noted in my last post, [[The eremitical vocation requires physical solitude, but it is not primarily about physical solitude, nor does it exist for the sake of physical solitude. Similarly, the hiddenness of eremitical life is not about external hiddenness, anonymity, etc., though it may benefit from these. Instead, it is about the hidden journey to the very heart of our being. This journey continues in one way or another, whether I am with others or not, and it is hidden from everyone, even those whose place in my life makes them a privileged sharer in this journey.]] Physical solitude can sharpen our existential solitude, but so can being with people. I think physical solitude, however, is the privileged servant of the existential solitary journey and is essential to authentic eremitism.

I understand what you mean when you write about reading and hearing other hermits making physical solitude the key to the eremitical vocation, though. I agree that some seem too taken with externals (this includes those who criticize these) and even seem unwilling to look at the inner journey as the heart of the vocation. I absolutely believe the eremitical vocation and the authenticity of the hermit herself can only be measured in terms of the inner journey they have undertaken. Many people have embraced the newish phenomenon called "cocooning." Many others are misanthropes and agoraphobics, while in many prisons, criminals are locked in their individual cells for 23 hours a day. All of these and many, many more live physical solitude and are NOT hermits. 

The examples could be greatly multiplied with scholars, artists, writers, the isolated elderly,  many chronically ill, and others who live and work alone. Some try to validate their relative isolation by calling themselves hermits. Some of these even embrace some degree of piety and prayer. A small percentage of these may discover a genuine call to eremitic life. Even so, what tends to be missing for the majority is the intense, serious, and sustained inner journey to the depths of one's being involving an engagement with existential solitude.

The Church professes and consecrates c 603 solitary hermits and has done so since Advent of 1983. Some argue that canonical standing is not necessary. I differ because I understand how difficult the inner journey I am speaking about actually is, and how much support it actually requires. Generally speaking, in the process of discernment and (initial) formation, those working with the candidate have a sense of the person being about this inner journey, or they do not admit them to profession or consecration. The outer signs of this vocation remind the hermit of the inner journey to union with God they are supposed to be about. These things remind the Church itself that it has such persons in its midst. At the same time, admission to profession and consecration (when these are legitimately pursued and granted to the hermit), says to the hermit in the midst of this journey that the Church recognizes she is called to this vocation, and helps empower her to stay the course! So does the supervision of the local ordinary and/or his delegate and the spiritual director.

Of itself, living entirely alone is not all that important. It might even represent a failure to live with others or to be adequately socialized (remember those misanthropes and criminals!). But living alone or perhaps with one or two others in a laura, 1) with the approval and assistance of representatives of the Church, 2) within a local faith community, 3) all for the sake of an inner journey to union with God in, 4) a divine vocation that is, 5) paradigmatic of the ultimate call of every person that exists or will ever exist, is incredibly important. The externals of this vocation (including physical solitude) point at once to its ecclesial nature and remind us of its essential hiddenness. Even so, it is the inner journey to the depths of one's being and an active seeking of union with God that is the very heart of the call and justification for everything else, especially every sacrifice the vocation requires from us. It seems to me that a life committed to this particular journey is the only thing that actually merits the name "hermit".

On Inner Work and becoming Transparent to God (Reprise with Introduction)

I got repeated questions this week on the inner work I speak of so I decided to put the following piece from not quite a year ago up again. Behind it is the approach to growth work known as PRH (Personality and human relationships). What is essential to PRH is the recognition that human beings are wounded in relationship, and heal and grow in the same way. While it may sound strange to hear a hermit participating in such inner or growth work given this focus, much less depending on it as a key to growing in the silence of solitude, eremitical hiddenness, etc., I assure you it is not! For more on this inner or growth work I speak of, please see other posts with the same labels as this post.  Anyway, on to the post:

Sister, when you write about stricter separation from the world does the inner work you have been doing have a place in it? As I read your last post entitled, "Why isn't it enough?" I thought I got, just for a moment, a glimpse of why that would be important not only so you could live as a hermit, but also as an integral part of the eremitical life. This glimpse came and went in a flash so I can't say more about what I mean but maybe you know just what I am trying to say here. I know you have been criticized by readers in the past for needing to do such work and that you wrote it was integral to your vocation. I think re-reading your last post helped me understand this a little better because I saw you, and myself, and everyone else as having been distorted by the world and needing to do the inner work you speak of to become more clearly ourselves. That was the glimpse I got while reading what you were saying. I don't know if this is something you could write about, but my question is do I have this right? Does the inner work you speak of allow you to become "transparent to God" (your phrase) as you become more truly yourself?

Thanks for your questions. Yes, I definitely think you got it!!! The post you referred to re criticism of my own engagement in what I call "inner work" is found here: On Justifying Inner Work and it contains other links to related articles. It was also prompted by my discovery that the inner work I had been doing for a couple of years at that point might have shown me I had made a mistake in my discernment of an eremitical vocation; instead, it affirmed this vocation again and again. And regarding your second question, YES!!! Absolutely, the inner work is part of what allows me to become transparent to God as I become more truly myself. This transparency to God is the very nature of what it means to be truly human, so the more truly human I become, the more transparent to God. 

We speak about this phenomenon of transparency in a number of ways. The main ones affirm us as imago dei, and incarnations of the Word of God -- especially to the extent we live in light of and through Christ!! I believe the story of Jesus' Transfiguration is a story of his (eventually!!) perceived transparency to God by the chosen disciples. Recently Sister Susan gave me a mirror medallion developed by Richard Rohr. I believe that this too reflected (no pun intended) the notion of becoming transparent to God. It also reminds us that others are, to varying degrees, also transparent to God. The side of the mirror medallion facing one's own heart/self has a symbol of the Trinity on it; it represents the gaze of God and the way God sees us at every moment; the side facing outward is a plain mirror reflecting everything as it is without distortion or judgment. Rohr had experienced the Trinity as a dynamic reality moving through him --- in and out. This experience developed into a practice of receiving beauty and breathing it back out to others. I recognize it as a symbol of transparency to God and to being the imago dei to others, one who sees as God sees and also one who is seen as God sees.

Transparency is something that happens, something we become as more and more we become persons who allow the presence of God to be mediated through and in us. Transparency is a means of revelation, but also of standing truly and honestly as our deepest selves. God seeks to reveal Godself at every moment and mood of our lives and in many ways, we occlude or distort that revelation. Part of all of that "occlusion" comes from our own woundedness and the resulting fear of allowing God (and sometimes, anyone at all) to love us and fill us with God's life and light. Sometimes we have lost so much in trying to be open and trust or love that we cling tightly to the superficial image of who we truly are, even when that "self" is but an echo of who we once were and a shadow of who we are truly called to be. Letting go to allow something so marked by newness, dynamism (change!!), and Mystery, is simply terrifying. And so, when people look at us, they mainly see echoes and shadows, scars, woundedness, and diminishment because that is all we feel free enough to allow ourselves to reveal.

Pope Francis Says Vespers with the
Camaldolese Nuns and Monks in Rome

Sometimes our failure to allow the transparency and revelation God yearns for with each of us comes from other forms of rigidity and arrogance. We believe we know who God is because we were taught about who God is in religion or theology classes. We take refuge in formulae and rituals which at least as easily distance us from the real God as they draw us closer. We have learned these things, sometimes with great effort, and we feel safe with them where the "living God" is more Mysterious and awesome (terrifying) even while he is also intriguing to us (mysterium tremendum et fascinans); they are therefore hard to let go of and can occlude the revelation of the living God we are meant to become. It is the "inner work" I have written about several times now that allows the necessary healing and strengthening of ourselves so that we can live from our deepest potential and love as we are meant to love.

Because God is the source of the potential I am speaking of, and we are the persons who are created as we listen to and respond to that source, we are never ourselves alone (except to the extent we are sinners or impaired by the sin that has touched us) because God is a constituent dimension of who we are. The more truly ourselves we become, the more clearly and truly present God becomes within us. We become more and more transparent to the God who is, as Tillich put the matter, the ground and source of our being. God is not alien to us, nor is God some sort of weird or supernatural parasite within us. When we speak of God dwelling within us, we are speaking of something that is most deeply and truly an essential or fundamental part of ourselves. We cannot be "us" (or even alive at all) without this presence and the opposite is also true: the more we become our truest selves, the clearer and stronger this presence within us becomes. We are truly ourselves, truly holy and truly human when people look at us and see God in everything we are and do. This is what revelation is about and it is what transparency is about. 

The inner work I and others do and that I write about here, allows this to be realized in our lives and all we touch!! It allows us to be healed of all of those forms of woundedness that cripple or otherwise limit us and it opens us to the deepest potential that is ours so that we can live from that for the sake of others. Once I thought of this work as something I could do and finish with so that I could live my vocation as I am called to do. Now I understand that this inner work is part of the "asceticism" or even "penance" that necessarily accompanies my prayer and is essential to my vocation. In other words, I will not finish it -- though I will move through different stages of this work at various times throughout my life; instead, I will continue doing it as a foundational practice because in conjunction with prayer, as you say, it is essential to my vocation and does indeed allow me to become transparent to God ---  which is the essence of eremitical hiddenness, and the goal of my call to holiness and creation as imago dei.

What Do You Like Most about Eremitical Life? (Updated)

I was asked the following question again this last week and rather than trying to answer it again and anew, I am reprising the original answer from 8 years ago and adding one more paragraph to update it. 

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered if you could explain what you like best about the eremitical life? Since you don't do a lot of active ministry that would provide variety, I am assuming that is not a favorite part, so what is? Maybe this is not the best way to ask the question. I guess I am really wondering what part of your life is most enriching or what part you look forward to every day especially if every day is the same because of your schedule. I hope you can understand what I am asking here. Thank you.]]

Now that is a challenging question! It is not challenging because I don't know what I look forward to each day or really like, but because there is no one thing I like best. I guess saying that out loud gives me the key to answering your question then.  What I like best about eremitical life is the way I can relate to God and grow in, with, and through him in this vocation. This is also a way of saying I like the way this vocation allows me to serve the Church and world despite or even through the limitations I also experience. Each of the elements of my life helps in this and some days I like one thing more than another but still, that is because each one contributes to my encounter with God --- usually in the depths of my own heart --- in different ways, to different degrees, on different days.

So, on most days I love the silence and solitude and especially I love quiet prayer periods or more spontaneous times of contemplative prayer which intensify these and transform them into the silence of solitude --- where I simply rest in God's presence or, in the image I have used most recently, rest in God's gaze. It is here that I come to know myself as God knows me and thus am allowed to transcend the world's categories, questions, or judgments. Sometimes these periods are like the one prayer experience I have described here in the past. But whether or not this is true, these periods are ordinarily surprising, or at least never the same; they are transformative and re-creative even when it takes reflective time to realize that this has been happening.

Another thing that I do each day which is usually something I really love is Scripture, whether I do that as part of lectio or as a resource for study or writing. Engagement with Scripture is one of the "wildest rides" I can point to in my life. It is demanding, challenging, and often exhilarating. Sometimes it doesn't speak to me in any immediately dramatic way. But it works on my heart like water on something relatively impervious --- gradually, insistently, and inevitably. Other times, for instance when reading Jesus' parables or other's stories about Jesus, or even the theological reflection of John and Paul, I have the sense that I am being touched by a "living word" and brought into a different world or Kingdom in this way. It always draws me in more deeply and even when I have heard a story or passage thousands of times before something speaks to me on some level in a new way, leads to a new way of understanding reality, or shows me something I had never seen before.

A third piece of this life I love and look forward to is the writing I do. Some of this is specifically theological and there is no doubt that my grappling with Scripture is important for driving at least some of my writing. Whether the writing is the journaling I do for personal growth work, the blogging I do which, in its better moments is an exploration of canon 603 and its importance, a reflection on Scriptures I have been spending time with, or the pieces which can be labeled "spirituality," they tend to be articulations of what happens in prayer and in my own engagement with Christ. One topic I spend time on, of course, is reflection on the place of eremitical life under canon 603 in the life of the Church herself. Since I am especially interested in the possibility of treating chronic illness as a vocation to proclaim with one's life the Gospel of Jesus Christ with a special vividness, and since I have come to understand eremitical solitude as a communal or dialogical reality which is especially suited to the transfiguration of the isolation associated with chronic illness, etc, I write a lot about canon 603 and the solitary eremitical vocation.

A second area of theology I return to again and again is the theology of the Cross. I remember that when I first met with Archbishop (then Bishop) Allen Vigneron he asked me a conversation-starter kind of question about my favorite saint. I spoke about Saint Paul (wondering if perhaps I shouldn't have chosen someone who was not also an Apostle --- someone like St Benedict or St Romuald or St John of the Cross) and began to talk about his theology of the cross.  I explained that if I could spend the rest of my life trying to or coming to understand his theology of the cross I would be a happy camper. (I have always wondered what Archbishop Vigneron made of this unexpected answer!)

I saw incredible paradoxes and amazing beauty in the symmetries and strangely compelling asymmetries of the cross and I still discover dimensions I had not seen. Most recently one of these was the honor/shame dialectic and the paradox of the glory of God revealed in the deepest shame imaginable. I have written previously about God being found in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. This paradox is a deepening of that insight. The Cross is the Event which reveals the source even as it functions as the criterion of all the theology we have that is truly capable of redeeming people's lives. It is the ultimate source of the recent theology I did on humility as being lifted up to be seen as God sees us beyond any notions of worthiness or unworthiness. My life as a hermit allows me to stay focused on the cross in innumerable ways, not only intellectually (reading and thinking about this theology), but personally, spiritually, and emotionally. That is an incredible gift which the Church --- via the person of Archbishop Vigneron and the Diocese of Oakland --- has given me in professing and consecrating me as a diocesan hermit.

There are other things I love about eremitical life (not least the limited but still significant (meaningful) presence and ministry in my parish (or in other dioceses and faith communities); today I continue to teach Scripture and it colors everything else I do, whether in cell or outside it); both teaching and spiritual direction (including work with candidates for c 603 profession) are also related in one way and another to the person I am in light of living contemplatively within the Divine dialogue I know as the silence of solitude. One of the things which is especially important to me is the freedom I have to live my life as I discern God wills (cf added paragraph below).

Whether I am sick or well, able to keep strictly to a schedule or not, I have the sense that I live this life by the grace of God and that God is present with me in all of the day's moments and moods. It doesn't matter so much if writing goes well or ill, if prayer seems profound or not, if the day is tedious or exciting, all of it is inspired, all of it is what I am called to and I am not alone in it. This means that it is meaningful and even that it glorifies God. I try to live it well, of course, and I both fail and succeed in that, but I suppose what I love best is that it is indeed what I am called to live in and through Christ. It is the way of life that allows me to most be myself in spite of the things that militate against that; moreover it is the thing which allows me to speak of my life in terms of a sense of mission.  The difficulty in pointing to any one thing I most like about eremitical life is that, even if in the short term they cause difficulty, struggle, tedium, etc., all of the things that constitute it make me profoundly happy and at peace. I think God is genuinely praised and glorified when this is true.

Sister Marietta Fahey, SHF

I want to add one more paragraph to this piece that was first published in 2015. On June 2nd, I begin the 8th year of a relatively intense kind of personal formation and growth work (PRH) with my Director. Spiritual direction was always important to me, but this particular kind of work was not. I resisted it and though it was written into my Rule because I recognized something of its importance, I struggled to value it appropriately. Today, I need to note that, for the purposes of living this life well and coming to love the work itself, a very big shift has taken place. I now associate the freedom of the eremitical life with the freedom to do and benefit from this kind of work. It is central to my vocation. Every day it is a means by which God works in my life to heal and strengthen, to challenge, console, and just generally to call me to wholeness and holiness in Christ. There is no other part of my life as a hermit that this work does not touch or qualify toward greater depth and maturity. It is part of my prayer, my penance, and is absolutely necessary for achieving the silence of solitude I recognize as the goal and charism of this life; daily it schools me to obedience, to becoming truly attentive and responsive in a contemplative key. It is central to my encounters with God and my own deepest Self every single day. Days on which I meet with my director are especially graced --- even when they are particularly difficult, painful, grief-filled or joy-filled and triumphant (and sometimes they are all of these during the same session)! All of this leads me more and more into the inner reality of the silence of solitude and the communal life of the Trinity that are the goal and gift of eremitical life.

I hope this gives you something of an answer to your question. I have kind of worked my way through to an actual answer --- from the individual pieces of the life that are most life-giving to me to the reasons this life as a whole is something I love. I hope I have managed to convey that even when the schedule is the same day to day, the content is never really the same because at the heart of it is a relationship with the living and inexhaustible God. Your question focuses on the absence of variety and in some ways, the absence of novelty (neos). But really there is always newness rooted in the deeper, qualitative newness (kainotes) of God and of who I am called to be in God.

To catch a glimpse of what I mean by that, imagine plunging into the ocean at different points within a large circle. The surface looks the same from point to point but the world one enters in each dive is vastly different and differently compelling from place to place. So, following the same daily horarium (schedule), I sit in the same chair (or use the same prayer bench/zafu) to pray; I work at the same desk day in and day out. I open the same book of Scriptures and often read the same stories again and again or pray the same psalms, and so forth. I rise at the same hour each day, pray at essentially the same times, eat the same meals at the same hours, wear the same habit and prayer garment, make the same gestures and generally do the same things day after day. There is variation when I am ill or need to leave the hermitage, but in the main, it is a life of routine and sometimes even tedium. What is important to remember is that the eremitical life is really about what happens below the surface as one is empowered to open oneself to God, and allow (him) to become God-With-Us, even as (he) makes of us a new Creation. This really is where the action is, so to speak! It is the reason the classic admonition of the Desert Fathers, "Dwell (remain) in your cell and your cell will teach you everything," can be true and the only reason "custody of the cell" is such a high value in eremitical life or stability of place such a similarly high value in monasticism.

More Questions on Inner Work and Becoming Transparent to God

Sister, when you write about stricter separation from the world does the inner work you have been doing have a place in it? As I read your last post entitled, "Why isn't it enough?" I thought I got, just for a moment, a glimpse of why that would be important not only so you could live as a hermit, but also as an integral part of the eremitical life. This glimpse came and went in a flash so I can't say more about what I mean but maybe you know just what I am trying to say here. I know you have been criticized by readers in the past for needing to do such work and that you wrote it was integral to your vocation. I think re-reading your last post helped me understand this a little better because I saw you, and myself, and everyone else as having been distorted by the world and needing to do the inner work you speak of to become more clearly ourselves. That was the glimpse I got while reading what you were saying. I don't know if this is something you could write about, but my question is do I have this right? Does the inner work you speak of allow you to become "transparent to God" (your phrase) as you become more truly yourself?

Thanks for your questions. Yes, I definitely think you got it!!! The post you referred to re criticism of my own engagement in what I call "inner work" is found here: On Justifying Inner Work and it contains other links to related articles. It was also prompted by my discovery that the inner work I had been doing for a couple of years at that point might have shown me I had made a mistake in my discernment of an eremitical vocation; instead it affirmed this vocation again and again. And regarding your second question, YES!!! Absolutely, the inner work is part of what allows me to become transparent to God as I become more truly myself. This transparency to God is the very nature of what it means to be truly human, so the more truly human I become, the more transparent to God. 

We speak about this phenomenon of transparency in a number of ways. The main ones affirm us as imago dei, and incarnations of the Word of God -- especially to the extent we live in light of and through Christ!! I believe the story of Jesus' Transfiguration is a story of his (eventually!!) perceived transparency to God by the chosen disciples. Recently Sister Susan gave me a mirror medallion developed by Richard Rohr. I believe that this too reflected (no pun intended) the notion of becoming transparent to God. It also reminds us that others are, to varying degrees, also transparent to God. The side of the mirror medallion facing one's own heart/self has a symbol of the Trinity on it; it represents the gaze of God and the way God sees us at every moment; the side facing outward is a plain mirror reflecting everything as it is without distortion or judgment. Rohr had experienced the Trinity as a dynamic reality moving through him --- in and out. This experience developed into a practice of receiving beauty and breathing it back out to others. I recognize it as a symbol of transparency to God and to being the imago dei to others, one who sees as God sees and also one who is seen as God sees.

Transparency is something that happens, something we become as more and more we become persons who allow the presence of God to be mediated through and in us. Transparency is a means of revelation, but also of standing truly and honestly as our deepest selves. God seeks to reveal Godself at every moment and mood of our lives and in many ways, we occlude or distort that revelation. Part of all of that "occlusion" comes from our own woundedness and the resulting fear of allowing God (and sometimes, anyone at all) to love us and fill us with God's life and light. Sometimes we have lost so much in trying to be open and trust or love that we cling tightly to the superficial image of who we truly are, even when that "self" is but an echo of who we once were and a shadow of who we are truly called to be. Letting go to allow something so marked by newness, dynamism (change!!), and Mystery, is simply terrifying. And so, when people look at us, they mainly see echoes and shadows, scars, woundedness, and diminishment because that is all we feel free enough to allow ourselves to reveal.

Pope Francis Says Vespers with the
Camaldolese Nuns and Monks in Rome

Sometimes our failure to allow the transparency and revelation God yearns for with each of us comes from other forms of rigidity and arrogance. We believe we know who God is because we were taught about who God is in religion or theology classes. We take refuge in formulae and rituals which at least as easily distance us from the real God as they draw us closer. We have learned these things, sometimes with great effort, and we feel safe with them where the "living God" is more Mysterious and awesome even while he is also intriguing to us (mysterium tremendum et fascinans); they are therefore hard to let go of and can occlude the revelation of the living God we are meant to become. It is the "inner work" I have written about several times now that allows the necessary healing and strengthening of ourselves so that we can live from our deepest potential and love as we are meant to love.

Because God is the source of the potential I am speaking of, and we are the persons who are created as we listen to and respond to that source. We are never ourselves alone (except to the extent we are sinners or impaired by the sin that has touched us) because God is a constituent dimension of who we are. The more truly ourselves we become, the more clearly and truly present God becomes within us. We become more and more transparent to the God who is, as Tillich put the matter, the ground and source of our being. God is not alien to us, nor is God some sort of weird or supernatural parasite within us. When we speak of God dwelling within us, we are speaking of something that is most deeply and truly an essential or fundamental part of ourselves. We cannot be "us" (or even alive at all) without this presence and the opposite is also true: the more we become our truest selves, the clearer and stronger this presence within us becomes. We are truly ourselves, truly holy and truly human when people look at us and see God in everything we are and do. This is what revelation is about and it is what transparency is about. 

The inner work I and others do and that I write about here, allows this to be realized in our lives and all we touch!! It allows us to be healed of all of those forms of woundedness that cripple or otherwise limit us and it opens us to the deepest potential that is ours so that we can live from that for the sake of others. Once I thought of this work as something I could do and finish with so that I could live my vocation as I am called to do. Now I understand that this inner work is part of the "asceticism" or even "penance" that necessarily accompanies my prayer and is essential to my vocation. In other words, I will not finish it -- though I will move through different stages of this work at various times throughout my life; instead, I will continue doing it as a foundational part of my life because in conjunction with prayer, as you say, it is essential to my vocation and does indeed allow me to become transparent to God ---  which is the very meaning of eremitical hiddenness, and the goal of my call to holiness and creation as imago dei.