Reflections from Friday's Readings

One of the fundamental keys for self-help groups and 12 step programs is the recognition that the person needing help "hits bottom" and comes to a profound sense of their own powerlessness to change things. Though we think of this as a contemporary bit of wisdom it is quite ancient and something Paul has been writing about in his Letter to the Romans for the last two weeks. From the portrait we find in Paul we are apt to recognize clearly that the dynamics of sin and of addiction are almost identical, especially as he describes things today: [["For I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil I do not want. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. So, then, I discover the principle that when I want to do right, evil is at hand. For I take delight in the law of God, in my inner self, but I see in my members another principle at war with the law of my mind, taking me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members."!]]

The "law of (the) mind" is the law (the inner drive and foundational dynamism) of the inner self, the good will and seat of the desire to do good, to know, embrace, and be truth. It is the fundamental law of the self, the God-given source of vocation and all creativity. It is the law which is at war with the law of sin. The whole self under the power of sin (the flesh) is at war with the whole self under the power of the Spirit (the spirit). What Paul knows with absolute certainty is that the attempt to keep the Law on his own power (flesh) only leads more deeply into sin. After all, to attempt to take what can only be received as gift is to betray both the giver and ourselves who are meant to be receivers. It is to increase the distance between ourselves and God.  Our inner self desires to do good and avoid evil but has no power of itself. Paul knew human beings to be locked in a situation of sin, a bondage of the will, and heart. In such a situation of bondage God's greatest gifts, the Law and the call to pray (to worship God in truth and purity of heart) become traps to idolatry and they occasion an even more extreme situation of estrangement and alienation (sin).

It is, as I described earlier in the week, a bit like jumping off a cliff in an attempt to fly and then trying to arrest the inevitable fall (much less believing we can somehow then launch ourselves into flight!) by pulling on the tops of our shoes! Thus, Paul follows his depressing and realistic analysis with a cry of abject helplessness: [[Who will save me from this body of death?]] But Paul's "hitting bottom" was also the moment of his being "exalted" to his original dignity and freedom. Judgment came in his meeting with God in Christ, but so did redemption and so, Paul's cry of abjection is followed by one of exultation, [[Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!]] The realization that he could do nothing to save himself and was thus in bondage to sin was turned on its head as he came to realize he need do nothing but embrace his powerlessness; in that moment he became open (obedient) and Absolute Power (in the weakness of the Crucified Christ) embraced him. Love-in-Act grasped, shook him, and freed him of "the law of sin" so that he might live instead from the grace of God.

Incapacity to Keep the Law or to be People of Prayer apart from God:

One of the striking pieces of Paul's insight here, an insight rooted in his experience of powerlessness is the way two things become complicit in our sin. The first is Law and the second is prayer. I have written recently about Paul's position on the Law. With Prayer what we need to see is that to truly pray we must admit our powerlessness so that God might then work within us. Paul said it this way, "The Spirit helps us in our infirmities. We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit, with groanings too deep for words intercedes for us." My sense is the Church works very hard to make sure we model this in all of our prayer, all of our liturgy. Just as in addiction, so too in any spiritual life: everything hinges on our deep and dual confession of powerlessness and trust in God.

We begin every prayer with the sign of the cross and the words, "In the Name (that is, in the the dynamic, powerful, and empowering presence), of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." In other words, we open ourselves to being moved and empowered by God's own presence. We complete our prayers in the same way, but this time, like Paul's dual confession in Friday's first reading, it is an expression of gratitude and hope rooted again in the powerful presence of the Triune God within and around us. In monastic life and the Liturgy of the Hours we begin the very first prayer of the day with the hopeful plea, "Lord Open my lips, and my mouth will proclaim your praise." Again, we know we are powerless to say a single word in prayer much less praise God with our lives unless God empowers us in this way. We trust that God will do so but we are equally clear that he must. At every subsequent hour we begin by intoning, O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me!" This is a prayer I personally pray many times a day in all kinds of situations. At these moments I am reminded of my own powerlessness, but also the power I have in Christ, and the covenant relation with God I truly am.

Paying Attention to the Weather?

Luke's Gospel reminds us how urgent this all is, and how attentive we must be at all times to the smallest sign of God's presence and our own powerlessness apart from that presence. Jesus begins by noting how clearly the people see and understand the signs of coming rain or hot winds. There is nothing trivial in this knowledge. In the Middle East of Jesus' day drought or famine led to social unrest and dislocation, loss of unity and death. Just recently we read that the war in Syria was caused in part by a terrible drought followed by the movement of 1.5M people to urban areas. The economy was destabilized, social unrest occurred and then war. Analysts note that because no one really paid attention to the drought as a factor in the county's situation they deemed Syria to be stable even the day before war broke out; this critical inattentiveness to what should have never been overlooked contributed to or (some opine) even caused the catastrophe in which many nations are now embroiled in one way and another. In California, where we are experiencing a serious drought people have begun to pay keen attention to clouds, water tables, fire conditions, El Nino, Hurricane Patricia, and so forth. We know how fragile the situation in which we find ourselves and we watch carefully lest we face disaster down the line. And yet, how many of us look so assiduously for the signs of God's presence --- or at the signs of our own critical need for God's presence?

As in these situations, and exactly like someone in a twelve step program who begins (and continues every step of) their journey into a hope-filled future by admitting the situation from which they cannot extricate themselves as they also open themselves to a "higher power," we are called to make our own Paul's dual confession of bondage to sin and the grateful celebration of freedom (being empowered by grace) in Christ.  At every moment and mood, with every prayer or attempt to be our true selves we are called to remember and claim our powerlessness so that God may simultaneously empower, free, and exalt  us to true dignity and humility. Embracing our personal poverty is the occasion for the triumph of God's great love. As Paul also reminds us, "(God's) grace is sufficient for (us). (God's) power is made perfect in weakness" --- both that of Christ and our own! We know how to do this:  + In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit we make our prayers and live our lives. + In the Name of God our lives are made God's own prayers. Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Question on Religious Poverty and the Diocesan Hermit

[[Dear Sister, Can a hermit own her own property? In particular I was thinking if it was small and only sufficient for her needs. What is your status with regard to your hermitage? How does this line up with your vow of poverty?]]

Please do check other posts on poverty since I have written about this before (one link is included at the end of this post). Yes, hermits may certainly own their own hermitages. So long as they can maintain the property and care for themselves this is probably the best way to go. Remember that diocesan hermits are required to be self-supporting so although they live very poorly and in some cases have executed a cession of administration as part of their vow of religious poverty, poverty for the solitary hermit does not involve a vow which prohibits them from owning anything. That is more fitting for a hermit who belongs to a community which provides for their care and ordinary needs.

I rent the place where I live. Since my vow of poverty is in line with a Benedictine conception of poverty as well as with the requirements of canon 603 I own a number of things a Franciscan hermit might not, for instance, nor someone living in community where the congregation shares some essentials and have physical facilities which support the common life. I have a significant theological library and a good spirituality collection besides because I need these for my own work and spiritual nourishment as well. (These are pretty standard in community of course.) I own a computer which allows me to write and serves as a window on the world around me --- but also allows limited contact with others in case of need or question. I own the wherewithal to listen to liturgical music -- thus iPod, CD's, CD player, etc. I maintain the necessary accouterments for a small chapel where Eucharist is reserved. Further, the expenses which fall to me additionally include: rent, utilities,  cable/phone, insurance, food, education, retreat, spiritual direction or supervision, transportation, clothing, recreation, and health/exercise needs.

My own vow of poverty reads as follows: [[I recognize and accept the radical poverty to which I am called in allowing God to be the sole source of strength and validation in my life. The poverty to which my brokenness, fragility, and weakness attest, reveal that precisely in my fragility I am given the gift of God’s grace, and in accepting my insignificance apart from God, my life acquires the infinite significance of one who knows she has been regarded by Him. I affirm that my entire life has been given to me as gift and that it is demanded of me in service, and I vow Poverty, to live this life reverently as one acknowledging both poverty and giftedness in all things, whether these reveal themselves in strength or weakness, in resiliency or fragility, in wholeness or in brokenness.]]

You see, the heart of religious poverty for me is dependence upon God which issues in a reverence for all that is part of my life. This attitude shapes my approach to owning and spending, to using and having, to acquiring or giving back, but it also shapes the way I see myself and others. Because God is first and last in importance, because he is the source of my life's meaningfulness and richness, and because I am committed to allowing that to be more and more true as life goes on, this means that I really have less need to own things, less need for novelty instead of the real newness God brings to everything and less need to shore up my own poverty and brokenness with "stuff." In any case, you might want to look at the following article as well on the matter of religious poverty: Eremitical Poverty and the Diocesan Hermit

Always Beginners

[[Dear Sister Laurel, you wrote that hermits feel like novices even after living the life for decades. Why is that? I think Saint Teresa of Avila said like she always felt like a beginner in prayer. Are you speaking of the same experience?]]

Re your first query, what a terrific question --- and a difficult one too! I have never really thought about why one always feels like a beginner at living as a hermit even when one has lived this way for years (which, as I think about it, is definitely not the same as being a novice or neophyte),  but I would say that a large part of it has to do with the reason we are always beginners in prayer, yes. In other words, your question is a profoundly theological one and the answer itself has to do with the nature of God and the nature of prayer.

It is important to remember that prayer is more the action of God than that of human beings. Even when we define it as raising our minds and hearts to God we are speaking of something both initiated and empowered by God. Prayer is God at work in us, and when we speak of prayer periods or engaging in prayer we are speaking of those privileged or dedicated times we allow God to work more freely in us than we may at other times. Therefore, it is not, by definition, something we can become practiced at even though the smallest part of it involves our own actions and dispositions. While we can learn to relax physically, become comfortable in silence, deal with thoughts and distractions, open ourselves more or less to God's presence, a large part of prayer (including our desire to pray) is what God does within us --- and there is always a newness and a kind of incommensurability about this --- even when God's movement within us is subtle at best.

I think the second reason is related. When God is active within us, and especially when we open ourselves to that activity, we change. Our hearts become deeper and more expansive in their capacity to love, our eyes and ears are opened to the really real (Ephphatha!), our minds are also converted, and everything looks and feels differently because we ourselves are different. Thus, through the power of God we are attuned more and more to the eternal which interpenetrates our world and this means that things are never old, never static, and perhaps no longer really completely familiar. I think that ordinarily a piece of judging whether we are a beginner or not is gained by comparing how familiar doing something is. When these things are familiar there is an ease about them, and we are able to gauge the expected results without much conscious attention to things. With prayer, however, we are constantly being brought into a "far country" and in contact with a dynamic, living God we cannot imagine much less set forth expectations about. There is a sense of adventure here, even when it is very very muted; I am not sure that adventure in these terms is ever something we are "old hands" at.

At the same time there is also monotony and sometimes a tedium about eremitical life; like everyone we may crave short term novelty and distraction, but be uncomfortable with the patience and persistence required for genuine newness. Our world often mistakes novelty for authentic newness and we are profoundly accustomed to and conditioned by this. Yet, the yearning for real newness is a part of our very being. (In the NT there are two different words for new which accent this distinction. The first is kaines or kainetes which indicates a newness of character which is superior and respects the old; the second is neos which means new in time but can also mean a denigration of the traditional or the old.) The situation of monotony and tedium is exacerbated because prayer can seem like nothing at all happens despite our trust (knowledge) that God is present within us working, touching, loving, recreating, and healing.

In the short term especially we may not be able to see or sense the changes that are occurring within us and since the hermitage itself changes very little, in worldly terms we think we are not progressing. This too can make us feel like beginners because we don't feel "we are getting anywhere". It might seem that this conflicts with what I said above about the adventure of prayer, but it is more the case that both things are occurring at the same time and we see one or the other according to our perspective. I think though, that this set of reasons (focusing on our own progress in worldly terms) is far less significant or influential for contemplatives --- and that is especially true if we are speaking of St Teresa of Avila or someone similar.

In light of what I said about the distinction between novelty and authentic newness above, it occurs to me that some folks imagine heaven (the realm where God is truly Lord) as really tedious or boring (thus they fill it or at least imagine it filled with activities!); but the simple fact is that the God who is eternal and living is, for these very reasons, always new. Our own yearning for newness is a yearning for God and life with God, not a desire for novelty or distraction. (One of the reasons Christians embrace some form of poverty, by the way, is precisely to be sure their lives are attuned to the new (kaines, kainetes) rather than to the novel (neos). For those truly attuned to the new there is therefore less need to become shopaholics, less need for every new gadget or electronic gizmo. But the novel is seductive and religious poverty as value or vow helps limit the degree to which it seduces us!!) It seems to me that to the degree we are truly attuned to God's presence and live in grateful communion with him, to the extent we really are a new creation, all is new to us as well. We experience all of this with gratitude and the sense that we are always beginners.

I will definitely think about this more --- especially the link between gratitude and always being beginners just opened in the last sentences. The entire reality is fascinating, both as a topic and especially as an experience to which persons of prayer witness; so again, many thanks for the questions. I am sorry I don't have a better answer, but for the time being I hope this is helpful.

Eremitical Poverty and the Diocesan Hermit

I was recently asked how the eremitical vow of poverty worked for a diocesan hermit. Specifically, the question ran as follows:

[[I was wondering if you would blog about how hermits live out their vow of poverty, particularly with regard to their cession of the administration of property and how the hermit handles immediate financial needs and other requirements of life. This situation appears to be an oxymoron. I would greatly appreciate your insight.]]

The issue of cession of administration is not a central one in the grand scheme of eremitical poverty because not every diocese requires this of her diocesan hermits. On the other hand every hermit DOES vow religious or evangelical poverty and writes a Rule of Life which covers that. Unfortunately, while I can say a little about cession of administration, I cannot do so from a first hand perspective (at least not as a hermit) since my diocese did NOT require this of me.

Let me say up front that I don't understand how cession of administration works for individual or solitary hermits and I have asked a canonist for additional information on this. Generally it works better (as far as I can see) for hermits who are part of an Order/Congregation and who are in simple vows preparing for Solemn profession when they will give up all rights to ownership or acquiring of property. These hermits do not have the same requirements or responsibilities as diocesan hermits do re support of self, financial independence, etc, so the cession of administration while in simple vows makes more sense. It frees up the hermit for a life of contemplation, in a way which is optimal even while it allows for the possibility of leaving the congregation before solemn or definitive vows and makes sure the hermit will have property to return to to allow life outside the congregation should that be necessary.

However, for those really wishing more information on this than I can provide, I would suggest they contact the Vicar for Religious (or Consecrated Life) of Diocese of La Crosse (for instance), which I believe DOES require a document formalizing the cession of administration/usufruct of goods and property of its diocesan hermits. If you are a candidate for Canon 603 profession and are being asked to do this by your own diocese, contact the canonist there for more information and discuss the matter. When I have more information myself I will add that here or in a new post.

That said, I believe the questioner has put her finger on a practice which seems to me like a bit of a legal (and spiritual) shell-game when applied to diocesan hermits with perpetual vows. I personally see a conflict between requiring cession of administration and the requirement that the diocesan hermit be self-supporting and financially independent of the diocese. Neither do I personally understand how ceding the administration of property and yet retaining the use of it (again assuming one is a perpetually professed hermit) actually assists one to live out poverty in a responsible way. One has not really divested oneself of the property (it is really still one's own as far as I understand the situation) and one can fool oneself into thinking one is living poverty simply because one is merely "using" this property, etc.

On the other hand (trying to be evenhanded here), I can see how this could conceivably inhibit a hermit from acquiring more property and contribute to a careful use of what is at her disposal, and if it does this as well as remind the hermit that she is, in some ways, merely using or even "borrowing" what she needs and nothing more, such a practice could well contribute to her genuine practice of poverty.

The larger question posed by the questioner is how a diocesan hermit lives eremitical poverty despite being responsible for immediate financial needs and so forth. The answer is, I believe, that poverty must be understood in a way which makes trust in and dependence upon God primary and a correlative simplicity of life and relative financial poverty (NOT destitution!) a constant goal and context for who one is. I think that is true with regard to cession of administration of property for it MAY invite a person to depend upon and trust in God alone. What is most basic to eremitical poverty is always openness to and dependence upon God as the sole source of life and meaning. Any acquisitiveness which detracts from this is something the hermit deals with as it comes up.

However, acquisitiveness aside, the diocesan hermit is responsible for her own income, rent, insurance (including medical insurance), transportation expenses, food, utilities, annual or bi-annual retreat, library and media, education (ongoing formation including professional and other continuing education is indispensable), spiritual direction, religious goods and supplies, clothes, computer and internet hookup (if she requires these), taxes, and burial expenses, etc. The diocese is responsible for NONE of these (some dioceses will include a hermit under their diocesan insurance I have heard, but it is not usual and not something one can count on), so religious poverty for the diocesan hermit means being very clear regarding what is essential in light of the above constraints and requirements. Remember that there are many expressions of religious poverty (Franciscan differs from Benedictine differs from Carmelite, etc). The hermit is responsible for deciding which of these best fits her circumstances, writing that into her Rule (which is then approved by her Bishop) and then living it out ever more fully and responsibly.

I begin (and end!) my own approach to and vow of poverty with humble (truthful and loving) dependence on God because I think it is the heart of religious poverty. For me the whole attitude and reality of this kind of poverty is summed up in Paul's statement in 2 Corinthians, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is perfected in weakness." Religious and human poverty is the counterpart of divine grace. After all, one may live frugally or even in financially impoverished circumstances and not be living religious poverty because one is not essentially dependent upon God as the sole source of life, meaning, and validation. One does (or at least may) not allow one's innate poverty and weakness to be the counterpart of divine grace. When one begins with material poverty, this may or may not lead one to the necessary poverty of spirit the evangelical counsel requires.

I also find that once one begins to pay attention first of all to dependence upon God, and to being honest and transparent regarding our own essential and undeniable human weakness and poverty, the financial/material part of things falls into place and one simply needs less and less. (When expenses start to increase for some reason, for instance, it is a good time to look at the poverty of spirit side of things as well because the material part of eremitical poverty is affected directly by the existential or poverty of spirit part -- often more than economic inflation and other factors bring about!) Many hermits also make a yearly accounting of expenses for their Bishop and this too assists them to be careful and responsible in such matters. The two prongs of the vow of poverty, and of the life of poverty (poverty of spirit and economic and material poverty and simplicity) mutually influence one another so one needs to take care of both of them.

I realize this is a very general answer, and that perhaps the questioner had more specific things in mind. If so, I hope she will get back to me on this.