Again, Hiddenness and a Vocation to Extraordinary Ordinariness

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, does the hiddenness of the hermit say anything to the average person? I don't mean is hiddenness important to the hermit or even what is it, but rather does it speak to the average person and if so, what should they be hearing? Also, is the difference between the way you understand hiddenness and other hermits do, the difference between inner hiddenness and outer hiddenness? I don't necessarily mean is it only one vs only the other, but more about which has priority. Thank you.]]

That's a really great couple of questions, so thanks!! One of the things recent posts have focused on has been accountability and the public nature of this vocation; it is important that diocesan hermits reflect on what their life says to others. It is meant to be a proclamation of the Gospel, of course, but how does one do this when one is largely hidden from the life of the parish community and diocese? And why, then, is hiddenness important? I continue to believe that hiddenness is a derivative value that is rooted in the more primary elements of the life, namely, stricter separation from the world, persevering prayer, and the silence of solitude --- all values that say God must come first in our lives. At the same time this does not mean hiddenness is unimportant, nor that it does not have something to say to the average person. So what is it? what about it resonates or could well resonate with most people?

I wrote a piece some years ago (2008) about hiddenness and extraordinary ordinariness. Hiddenness and living an Extraordinary Ordinariness. The essential idea there was that hermits live very ordinary lives but the reason we do that is extraordinary and further, the grace of God transfigures the ordinary into something truly extraordinary. In other words, we live what every other person lives when at home, but we do so in order that God might be allowed to be God-With-Us. Yes, the focus of our days is likely different than it is for most people (prayer, lectio, study, writing or other activities, work) but the whole of the day is pretty normal and pretty typical of living one's life alone. One cooks and cleans for oneself, does the chores necessary, sleeps, eats, recreates, all the things most people do daily. I live in a complex with seniors and I suspect that my days generally look like the days of many of those living here -- though, again, my focus is different and that transfigures the whole.

What I think the hiddenness of my own life says to others is that in their own life, as they go about the ordinary things of the day, those things can also be transfigured if we learn to "pray the day". I don't mean one needs to spend hours in prayer as a separate activity (though some formal prayer will help with the rest), but instead, practice being present to whatever it is you are doing and let God be God-With-You in that. Each of us lives a pretty ordinary life, but especially those who live alone at home. If we can let God accompany us and be open to God's presence in everything we are and do what is ordinary becomes extraordinary. The way some say this is to do everything with love. We do the ordinary with an extraordinary intention. The essence of loving God, of course, is to let God be God, and in doing so, to become truly human, so we are saying essentially the same thing. 

One dimension of the Gospel is the way God values us and our lives, the way God delights in everything about us (except perhaps our sin). Most of us would like our lives to be meaningful (significant) and even important (of import). What hermits say in their hiddenness, their embrace of extraordinary ordinariness is that living our day well and allowing God to accompany us in that is significant and possibly, it is the most significant thing we may ever do. Hermits live an ordinariness made extraordinary by the grace of God. I believe that is possible for all of us, though most will accomplish it in a non-eremitical context. All of this is a way of honoring hiddenness.

Regarding your second question, if you mean by outer things the focus on clothes, anonymity, "blending in", no public presence, and things like that, then yes, I definitely see the hiddenness of eremitical life as less about those things than it is about the dimensions of the life no one ever sees, namely, our focus on letting God be God in the every-day stuff, and thus, becoming fully human in the silence of solitude. This latter has priority for me, and I think, for any hermit. But my life, with its title, habit, cowl, and post-nominal initials also witnesses to the fact that I live this life in the name of the Church and in fact, in the heart of the Church. 

Some speak of struggling to blend or "fit in" as part of their hiddenness. I do not because I don't think I need to do that. Instead, I see myself already belonging deeply and truly to the Church and to all that is precious to God. When one belongs in this way, when one is open to all God loves, "blending in" or even acting to "fit in" is unnecessary and even counterproductive. Eremitical hiddenness involves the "outer" hiddenness you refer to, yes. Still, that is secondary; our life project, the thing we live for and from, the truly critical dynamic that defines our lives and marks our success at that life is truly hidden from the eyes of others --- except, perhaps, when grace spills over in a holiness that will help change the face of creation. 

Measuring Growth in Eremitical Life

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered how you measure growth in eremitical life. Do you look for prayer experiences or "stages" in prayer? When I look at how I am growing, I look at relationships and my capacity to love, but how does that work if one is a hermit? You probably see what I am getting at. I know you are a scholar but I don't get the sense that you measure personal growth in terms of scholarship or canonical standing or other externals, so how do you measure growth in your own life or in the life of others you work with?]]

Wow, good questions! Challenging too, because they are questions that we all think we know the answer to until we try to put that answer into words! At that point, we are apt to find we have never asked ourselves the question so directly and never really listened to the answer we have been trying to discover and live. So, let me say initially there are two ways to read your initial question. The first means [[How do I recognize I am growing as a hermit?]] The second is, [[How do I recognize I am growing as a person?]]. Ideally, if one is called to be a hermit, the answers to each will overlap, be similar, and even identical, because growth in one's vocation will mean growing as a human being and growing as a human being will mean growing as God calls one to grow. Still, it is possible for someone to grow into a version of a hermit they hold as normative and be warped as a human being. This is one of the reasons it is so critical to honestly discern what vocation it is to which God calls us. But, back to [[how do I measure growth in eremitical life]] --- and I am going to try to answer both ways of reading that initial question!

In measuring my growth as a hermit there are externals that help me mark progress in my vocation and I do pay attention to those. The most central one is how faithful am I to prayer? No matter what I am doing, how I am feeling, whether I am sick or upset, feeling terrific, in pain, or whatever is going on, I am called to be a person of assiduous prayer. In fact, the NT counsel in this (and for more than hermits!) is to "pray always". This is the goal of God creating each and all of us, and the place where growth as a hermit and growth as a human being coincide. It is not enough to pray a lot, especially if by saying we pray a lot we mean saying a lot of prayers. Here we move from the externals of the life to a deeper, inner place --- and yet, the externals remain important. 

What this counsel to pray always calls for instead, is that we allow ourselves to be transformed into persons in whom God is able to breathe, speak, and sing himself at every moment and mood of our life. Yes, this begins with persistence in regular prayer and it may involve what have sometimes been defined as "stages" of prayer (though really, in some senses one moves backward and forward through these various ways of praying as the exigencies of life demand, and does not so much approach them as a kind of ladder to be climbed). Thus, I think growth in prayer means growth in allowing myself to be loved by God and too, in allowing God to love through me, to relate appropriately to the world he has made his own dwelling place. This always begins and ends by letting God be God. I think that love of God must be defined in these terms before anything else. Love of others will similarly mean allowing (accepting, guiding, nurturing, empowering) them as/to be the persons God calls them to be.

The ways I open myself (in response) to God's love (and thus, let God be God) are numerous and all are important in becoming faithful to prayer in the way I am speaking of prayer here. (This is true even when these things don't seem particularly "spiritual" to us. Remember that prayer is always God's own work within us, God's own being Godself within us.) Prayer periods, silence, study, lectio divina (Scripture and other spiritual reading), journaling, work with my director, recreation like playing music or coloring, walks, regularity in sleep and waking (a real difficulty for me sometimes), liturgical prayer and time with others, teaching Scripture, doing spiritual direction, and serious friendships --- all of these and more are part of being faithful to prayer. While some of these are more critical than others on an everyday basis (i.e., they will shape my day, day in and day out), all of them open me to God's presence so that (he) may work within and through me. So, a piece of measuring my own growth has to include an assessment of how carefully (full of care) I approach all of these. 

Bro Mickey McGrath osfs**

When I was studying theology formally my major professor used to characterize the fruit of the Gospel as making a person capable of [[living in joy and dying in peace]]! I think that in many ways that is the way I measure growth in eremitical life as well. Usually, however, I speak about it as "the silence of solitude" --- a constitutive element defining canon 603 life which I identify as the vocation's charism. For me, this term points to personal healing, to the stillness of shalom, and to the joy-filled wholeness of the individual person who stands in constant dialogue with the God of Love who always wills to be Emmanuel -- God-With-Us. As I have written several times recently, I believe that Emmanuel defines not just God's deepest will for Godself, but for us too and that means being a Self-With-God God is what it means to be truly human. That will be our joy in life and our peace in death. That will be our truest identity. It shouldn't be a surprise then, that the prayer of union is the highest form of contemplative prayer, or that I identify "praying always" as the primary goal of growth as a human being and as a hermit.

In persons I work with, I use the same criteria really --- though, because most of these persons are not hermits, I recognize that the source of authentic joy and peace that is God, will be mediated to and through them differently than it is for me or for other hermits. Still, the signs of growth will be the same. Are they more whole? More truly alive? Are their relationships better and more loving? (This is certainly true for hermits too, by the way!!) Is their work fulfilling and a source of creativity and fruitfulness for themselves and others? Do they live with greater intensity, integrity, and intelligence, and, in the whole of their lives, are they more attentive and responsible? In other words, are they more truly human and moved by the will/love of God? Do they live in joy and can they die in peace (that is, even when things are difficult, are they deeply happy and fulfilled) because in either case, in and with God they are truly being themselves? 

Regarding prayer stages, I look for these mainly to assess what, if anything, needs to change in the way I am directing or accompanying the person. Regarding canonical standing, I do try to ascertain whether someone is ready to make the kind of commitment canonical standing presupposes and calls for, that kind of commitment requires evidence of all of the other things first of all. Jesus came that we might have life and have it abundantly. The commitments we make and recommend others to be allowed to make should, it seems to me, be marked by a clear path towards more truly-abundant life. If the commitment is a public one, then that life is, and is always meant to be, at the service of others in an explicit way. Both the one making the commitment and those helping to discern such a call must be aware of the way God is at work in the person to create life.

I've ranged all over the place in this answer. As I said, it was/is a challenging set of questions. Please feel free to ask anything I was unclear on again, or for whatever clarifications you think might help. Meanwhile, I will think about what I have said here and see if I can get greater clarity and order in my response. If I can, I will follow up with further posts on the same topic.

** I chose Bro Mickey's photo above because he is simply one of the most joyful folks I know.  His joy is not superficial or lacking in seriousness; it does not lack shadows that also reveal the presence of light. It is deep and real and especially spills out in his art. Those of you who are also friends or acquaintances will recognize the appropriateness of the picture to the text!

On Contemplation, Regard for Contemplatives, and Science and Contemplation

[[Dear Sister, thanks for the post on the theological points which have been central to your life. I was able to see a little more clearly how these things are linked together. Well anyhow I was able to see THAT they are closely related and interrelated. One thing that was interesting was the [centrality] of paradox. I liked what Henri de Lubac said about only being able to contemplate paradox and that we can't resolve it. Oh, by the way, thank you for your explanation of docetism and arianism. I had never heard anyone explain these as a loss of the [paradoxical] nature of truth. That was pretty cool.

But anyway, my questions are about contemplative life and prayer. I know the Church regards contemplative life highly in some ways, but I wonder if you think they REALLY regard it highly? I read somewhere about a hermit not feeling contemplatives had a real place in the Church and that no one understood contemplative prayer or mystical prayer and experiences. She wanted to write for her diocesan paper but I think they had no space for something on these topics. Do you feel like your life is really regarded?

If what you say about paradox and contemplation is true then shouldn't everyone become a contemplative? But most people don't. Are scientists contemplatives or are they anti-contemplatives? I mean sometimes they seem to be contemplating the paradox of nature or reality and other times they are tearing things apart and seem to be incapable of contemplating things. How do you define contemplation anyway? Is it gazing at God and if it is, then how do we do that? I can't see God and I don't think you can either.  .  .]]

Definitions of Contemplation:

LOL!! No, I can't see God and yet I do consider myself a contemplative! Let me start with your last questions, not because they necessarily lead to the others, but because they have me laughing and because they are based on an important truth, namely, we can't talk about anything unless we are all on the same page regarding definitions. There is a sense in which contemplation has always meant gazing on the face of God. It involves a profound look at reality and especially at the depth dimension of reality. I think that when we talk about the contemplative stance of artists, writers, scientists (more about that later!), composers, etc, we are speaking about people who do look reverently on reality and let it grasp and shake them to the core with its beauty, order, relationships, structure, power, fragility, meaning or value, and so forth. I believe that those who are known in the Church as "proper" contemplatives "possess" such an attitude towards reality, but especially towards nature and towards other persons. These people, in one way and another, are concerned with gazing on the face of God.

But I think that there is a second and more fundamental sense to the term contemplation which has less to do with looking on the face of God than it does with allowing God to gaze at us. When contemplatives sit in prayer they often see and feel nothing at all --- except the deep quiet that comes from surrender to the silence of solitude. If you ask what they saw the only answer is often, "darkness" or "nothing", and there can be the sense that the darkness, as the silence and solitude, are living realities which, though too great to be seen or comprehended by us, somehow grasp or take hold of us instead. In these moments we are known in the biblical sense of that term, that is, with an intimacy which is almost sexual in its comprehensiveness. We know ourselves as known and loved by God and one of the better metaphors for this prayer speaks in terms of being gazed at and delighted in by God. In such a view contemplation is less something we do than it is our submission to the dynamism of God being God. Occasionally these experiences might be translated into visual imagery or other sensible experiences --- wonderful when it happens --- but also not really necessary for the profound sense of being seen, touched, and known.

On Science, Scientists and Contemplation

Both dimensions are present in the properly contemplative life, that is, in the lives of those who are, properly speaking, contemplatives. At the same time though, probably every person knows something of these two dimensions of the contemplative life and of contemplative prayer. This leads me to your great question about scientists. My sense is that generally scientists are contemplative without being contemplatives. They are capable of being grasped by reality in a way which compels them to do science, to explore, analyze, experiment with, hypothesize, test, and then repeat the process or parts of the process again and again. They are passionate and "ultimately concerned" in the way any person of faith is concerned in an ultimate way. They submit to the truth that grasps them and thus too to order, depth, beauty, structure, and so forth. They are, to a certain degree, reverent about the reality which is the focus of their work --- and often about the greater reality we all know. And some are contemplative in the theological sense of that word; they are aware of the necessity and reality of something transcendent which grounds and is the source of even their own science; more, they reverence and submit to that reality in the way of any person of faith.

But there are some scientists who insist on divorcing the world around them from depth, meaning, and so forth. For these scientists what Tillich called "technical" reason is enough. So long as they can dissect, analyze, explore, hypothesize, test, and in general "know" and exploit or use something which is finite and no greater than the human mind, they believe this is enough. In fact, they believe this is all that is possible. Some of these scientists are called scientific naturalists. I honestly don't know if these folks never feel as though they have been grasped by something bigger than they are, much less by something which is living, but those I have read seem to rule out any ultimate or truly transcendent dimension to things. My point is simply that there is more than one kind of scientist and we can't lump them together too easily.

One of the really great things about contemporary physics with its notions of entanglement and the sense that some things only really exist the moment they are observed, for instance, is that scientists are coming to see more clearly that paradox and relationality lie at the heart of reality. This means that though they are free (and perhaps called) to explore science even more deeply and rigorously, they are coming to suspect that, by its very nature, reality cannot be pried apart and "objectively known" as was once thought. Instead, one must give oneself over to it, let oneself be taken hold of by it, apprehend it with oneself as an integral part of the equation. Really objective knowledge is also profoundly subjective.

Meanwhile, for instance, the discovery of fractals lets us imagine an infinite depth to reality, a depth which is clearly reflected and imaged again and again and again in all being. In some ways fractals are the face of the infinite. These discoveries, and others as well, open the door to contemplation to the scientist precisely as scientist. It's an exciting time for them but also for theologians and contemplatives (in the proper sense of the term) because in significant senses we know this depth dimension of all reality and have known and been known by "him" right along. This means that while science cannot replace religion and while religion cannot replace science, they can and are called to approach reality with the same reverent sense of awe;  the knowledge we each possess has never been more clearly complementary or capable of enlivening and illuminating one another.

Are Contemplatives regarded in the Church?

I think I read the same piece you did by the hermit bemoaning the state of the contemplative in the Church and world. I both agree (and sympathize) and disagree with her. First, are contemplatives regarded in the Church? Yes, there is no doubt in my mind that they are. What is not properly regarded is the universality of the contemplative experience in not just the life of faith, but the life of the arts, sciences, music, and so forth. We are still suffering under the notion that contemplation is a rarefied form of prayer to which very few are called. Several years ago a diocese stopped all Centering prayer meetings and one of the diocesan officials (a priest and possibly a Monsignor) explained that "contemplative prayer takes years to develop and is really for a relative few religious." (I don't think he realized how serious the criticism was he was leveling at his own prayer life with this judgment!) In any case while we (the Church per se) esteem contemplatives I am not sure folks generally regard contemplative prayer or contemplative living sufficiently. Of course it is hard to really regard what you do not understand or see the value in and the thing about contemplation is that it is hard to point to its value.

I have to say that it also doesn't help any when those who call themselves "mystics" define contemplative prayer in terms of experiences few will ever have, ecstasies, locutions, visions, etc, or in terms of a spirituality which is so "world-hating" and incapable of seeing the sacramental character of ALL reality that no honest or healthy person would WANT to be associated with it. It is important to remember that the truly miraculous, like the truly contemplative, is rooted in something both transcendent and immanent. (It is not "supernatural" in the way we ordinarily think of that word so much as it also transcends the natural.) To associate contemplative prayer with the "paranormal", for instance, is to make it elitist, and for most of us (including most genuine contemplatives), weird and irrelevant as well. So, my answer is that among those who really know what it is, contemplation is esteemed. Among those who do not know what it means or those who mistakenly believe it is elitist and meant for the favored few it is not really esteemed either.

I do feel my own life is regarded despite the fact that I suspect it is not generally understood. That I and the life I live are regarded is true on the parish level especially, but also on the diocesan and then too on the level of the universal Church. My pastor, for instance, always invites me to special staff occasions and does not expect me to attend the more routine meetings (to which I would have little to add anyway since I am far less involved in the day to day staff concerns). At these and many other times he often suggests a way I can contribute which is reflective of my contemplative life. I am able to lead services three times a month and there is no doubt people appreciate what I bring to them. If I suggest trying a period of silence people enter into that and the kids at our school (the few times I have done some of this for them) certainly are open to learning quiet prayer. One of the things I really appreciate is that I am invited to everything at the parish even when I am unable to say yes. It is rather special to have folks continue to make sure I am specifically invited though they know my life as a hermit may not really allow me to accept the invitation. In any case, all of these people respect my own need for silence and solitude so my sense is they do indeed regard contemplative life (or those living it).

Why is Contemplative Prayer NOT regarded?

Part of the problem which your questions and the comments made by the hermit you mentioned circle around is that we do not teach contemplative prayer or even introduce people to the environment in which it can flower. We teach prayers and have a few moments of quiet, but we simply do not allow for the silence needed for prayer itself. Some of this comes from folks being insecure with "teaching" (mentoring) others in this way. Part of our resistance to doing this, I think, comes from the sense that we are wasting time doing this; we really should be teaching a more "practical religion" some would say, or we should be teaching about social justice, or generally doing something more constructive with clear goals and ends, but sitting in silence to learn contemplative prayer? C'mon! (Both are actually necessary!) Adults know this to some extent, but this points up the third part of the problem, namely, it takes time and commitment with no tangible results for contemplative praxis to deepen and bloom in a person's life. Today folks tend to make (and desire their children to make) commitments to things that give more immediate returns  (including the capacity to get a good job and earn money!) --- and those which the Church has encouraged is a more "proper" part of "their" vocations!

On Contemplation and Contemporary Society:

I wonder if diocesan papers get offers from contemplatives to write about the importance of contemplative prayer in the lives of families, children, and people struggling in all the ways contemporary culture brings on. It would not be enough to write about contemplation using examples from past centuries, for instance. There would need to be some compelling stories about the way contemplation affects people, the way they live, see, hear, appreciate life, etc. For instance, several years ago I did a class in prayer for one of our grade school's classes. We practiced silent prayer at the end and I asked the kids to practice this once or twice each day. (Before bed was one of the times I suggested.) The class wrote me letters to thank me for coming and also to tell me what the visit meant. Several spoke of praying silently each night before sleep. A couple of the students wrote unintentionally humorous comments, to wit: "I really like praying before bed this way. It really works; I go right to sleep!!" but one young man wrote the following really perceptive comment (a budding contemplative in the making, perhaps): "I have been praying silently each night before going to bed. It really helps. When I wake up the next morning I feel different!"

Of course the purpose of prayer is to let God be God; we don't want to turn it into the latest anti-anxiety treatment, or the newest alternative therapy for ADHD, but the simple fact is, when we allow God to be God for us and in us, we really are different. We are completed as persons and as a result we approach life with more patience and perseverance, greater empathy and compassion, and a greater capacity to risk ourselves for others when we don't see any immediate return for ourselves.  There is a generosity and a wider perspective that comes with contemplation. Certainly silence and the simple practice of waiting on God and learning to listen to one's own heart have their effects as well, but even so, quiet prayer is about letting God be God and becoming the persons we are in relation to the sovereignty of Love-in-Act. What we are seeing with a new freshness today is that in a sacramental world increasingly understood as fundamentally paradoxical and relational, the capacity for contemplation is important and often the only adequate approach to truly human forms of knowing whether these are associated with faith and theology or with the sciences.

Postscript: I realized I did not answer the question about everyone becoming contemplatives. I answered a similar question once before but from the "other direction". That one asked why we needed contemplative nuns if everyone was meant or called to pray contemplatively. For that post, please see, Why do we need Contemplative Convents?  Though from a different direction I think it answers your question as well. If not, please get back to me.