Prisoners as Hermits: Another look at the Redemption of Unnatural Solitudes (#1)

[[Dear Sister, I am sorry to keep bothering you because of an article or two on the internet, but I also read there about the idea of "criminals" being hermits, and the suggestion that perhaps they were "better hermits" than the professed and consecrated ones. What do you think about this idea?]]

Hi again! As for whether convicts can live as hermits, I actually think this is a great idea, and very edifying in many ways. I have noted before a number of times that urban hermits live in what Thomas Merton called the unnatural solitudes of the city -- that is, in situations that really isolate, alienate, and fragment --- situations that militate against community and wholeness. The job of the urban hermit is to allow and witness to the redemption of these "unnatural solitudes." They are called to allow the grace of God to transform that which isolates and fragments into a place of genuine solitude where the individual grows to wholeness and holiness, and the crowd of the city is, in whatever mysterious way this can occur, drawn into or permeated by the reality of God's Reign.

Until now, I have written about bereavement, chronic illness, and isolated old age as possible instances of "unnatural solitudes" which lead people to discover eremitical calls, but there is no doubt that one of the most radical and intense solitudes that exists today --- and one of the most clearly unnatural --- is the world of the supermax prison. Prisoners in these prisons or in segregated cellblocks of less secure prisons spend 23 hours a day in their cells, often with little to distract or entertain them, much less enrich or challenge them to grow as human beings. Even recreation is a completely isolated activity. On the few programs I have seen about these institutions, the incidence of serious mental illness is terribly high, and all of it is exacerbated (when it is not caused) by the terrible toll this unnatural solitude takes.

I have read, fairly recently in fact, of some prisoners thinking of themselves (and living their lives) as part of a new monasticism. My sense is many could find themselves challenged and fulfilled if they were able to similarly approach each day as part of the eremitical life. Remember that there are distinct external similarities between life in prison and the routinized, often tedious horarium of monks and nuns. Further, they are all lives of hiddenness, and too, lives which society may discount as fruitless or non-productive. In many ways they are penitential and poor lives without access to luxuries, varieties of food which do more than simply nourish, and their cells are often much more austere than the cell of almost any monk or nun. On a more profound level, perhaps, hermits are called to live on the margins as countercultural realities and witnesses, and especially they are called to live a life of esential freedom in spite of limitations and constraints. This is the very nature of authentic Freedom, and certainly therefore, the nature of the freedom Christ brings. How clearly prisoner hermits would represent such a vocation both to their fellow prisoners and to the rest of society!

In considering this possibility it reminds me that Canon 603 binds a diocesan hermit to, "the silence of solitude" --- not as I once misread, "silence and solitude." It seems to me that while physical silence is an important aspect of eremitical life (and contemplative life in general), the reality of the "silence of solitude" is often quite different. This, though also quite rich and marked (in fact, defined) by communion with God and others, is the silence of loneliness (or at least of aloneness even in the midst of a crowd), the silence of the celibate who lives without community, the sometimes painful and difficult silence of life within and from one's own heart from which one seeks not to be distracted. It includes physical silence, yes, but it is more than this, and sometimes exists even without it. It is marked more by one's confrontation with oneself, and by the prayer which accompanies it and in which one brings all this before God. Prisoners often live in the midst of continuing noise, sometimes deafening, but in many (maybe all) prison situations, they can also still live in the silence of solitude. Usually in a prison environment this is clearly unaccompanied by external silence, and this is unfortunate because such silence is ordinarily so necessary, but the challenge of the reality remains (or could remain) as it does for any hermit.

Whether such men and women would be "better" hermits than those canonically professed and consecrated is a relatively meaningless question, I think. Certainly it does not advance the discussion in any subtantive or edifying way. It is true that the witness of these person's lives could speak to some better than other hermits might be able. The contrary is also true. Hermits come in all shapes and sizes and all forms of eremitical life (lay, religious, diocesan) are significant and should be esteemed. So long as each hermit lives the foundational elements of the life and in the particular shape s/he is called to, s/he is as good a hermit as any other. The roles each plays may differ but it does little good to suggest that the diocesan hermit is a "better" hermit than the lay hermit in the next state, or that the prisoner is a better hermit than one who is consecrated according to Canon 603. What IS true is that each hermit will challenge and support others to a truer living out of their individual call, no matter the state of life or the shape of the eremitism involved. Casting the whole matter in terms of better or worse tends to shortcircuit that whole far more healthy dynamic.

I think this whole notion of prisoner hermits needs to be explored in more depth. I also think that looking at what prisoners live daily can assist hermits in clarifying the meaning of the terms and foundational elements of their lives. For instance, looking at the question today has helped me move a little farther along an understanding of the term "silence of solitude" just as did a brief gesture by a married couple at the end of a desert day during my last retreat. The original casting of the idea in qualitative terms is not particularly helpful, but the idea that prisoners might, even temporarily, well be called to be hermits in the midst of one of the world's most difficult and radically unnatural solitudes is a terrific one. Thanks for posing the question!

Postscript. Recently a hermit friend noted that some are called to eremitical life, and others are "only" called to practice an eremitical spirituality. I have not thought enough about the distinction of these two; at times I think the distinction is completely valid and significant, and other times I just don't see it clearly. However, it would be good to see more reflection on the latter (eremitical spirituality) since prisoners in particular could be introduced to this without the onus of labels. At the same time, I think that some very few of those prisoners who are truly going to be in prison for the rest of their lives, for instance, might well represent instances of the hermit vocation which the church would eventually wish to recognize and even celebrate under Canon 603. The majority (however small a number this would be) would remain lay hermits (and still be cause for ecclesial celebration)! Again, hermits are made from the combination of the exigencies of life and the grace of God. A free choice, formation, and commitment would be required --- and I think very great care in discernment necessary, but prison does not exclude this any more than it excludes the grace of God.

Married Diocesan Hermits?

[[ Dear Sister, Recently I read a book on "contemporary eremitical life" and it mentioned the existence of married hermits several times. I also heard of a married couple who are seeking to become canonical or diocesan hermits according to Canon 603. Is this possible? Hermits can live in communities, so presumably they could be married.]]

There is a recent new book out on contemporary hermit life which does this, yes. I read it in July. The problem however is that the book, which is quite good in some ways and problematical in others -- especially the following -- relies mainly on anecdotal descriptions taken from a survey of many who are self-described lay hermits. It therefore does not address or really attend to the theology of either marriage or eremitical life and how these apply to the notion of married hermits per se. The book is descriptive of any number of people who consider themselves hermits, but it is not always adequately prescriptive (normative) of eremitical life or indicative of what it entails or disallows. In my estimation, it especially fails in regard to the notion of "married hermits". Thus, while some married couples may consider themselves hermits I think that serious questions about eremitical solitude in particular, not to mention those around eremitical poverty, and chastity (celibacy or continence), have to be raised and adequately answered before lay persons in such circumstances can be called lay hermits. The situation is even more dificult with the second situation you describe because here there is a couple, both of whom are seeking to become consecrated or diocesan hermits.

It is my own opinion that married couples cannot live the same kind of solitude hermits are called to live. They are one flesh and they come to God together through their marriage, not in the way a hermit actually does. This means that even if they build in a good deal of physical solitude, they remain sacramentally ONE with each other, and because of this, they simply cannot live the kind of inner solitude, much less the silence of solitude a hermit must come to live, cultivate and witness to. It is hard for me to describe this, but an example from this Summer's retreat might help you to see what I am trying to convey.

A Desert Day and a Gesture of Affection from One's Spouse

During the latter part of the week we had a desert day, just as would happen in a monastic setting. Everyone went off for more solitude during the majority of the day and returned to celebrate Vespers and dinner together in silence. As we gathered there were a number of nods and smiles to one another, but one couple took each other's hand as they approached the refectory and the wife rested her head on her husband's shoulder very briefly. No one broke the silence, but it was very clear to me that despite the fact the these two (a truly lovely couple!) had spent their day physically apart from one another and in prayer, etc, their solitude was of a different quality than mine or others there who were unmarried -- much less than that of professed hermits, monks, or nuns. No one broke silence, but the silence of solitude (more about this below) was another matter.

Now let me be clear. This is AS IT SHOULD BE, and the brief physical gesture was apropriate and lovely to see. It was touching and inspiring. I doubt anyone who attends this retreat regularly does not feel blessed by this couple's love for one another. But, were they to start calling themselves hermits because of a certain degree of physical solitude built into their lives together, I think they would be deluding themselves and forgetting the experience of solitude which is characteristic of genuine hermits and how it differs from their own, even if those hermits exist in community. Consider, for instance, the import of the brief physical gesture I mentioned. Wasn't it the reestablishment or confirmation of a profound and sacramental link that exists all the time? Isn't it likely to have mirrored the gestures offered one another as they went their separate ways on this desert day? Both persons have profound prayer lives, I have absolutely no doubt of that, but despite its depth and the existential aloneness with God they may each find in that prayer, they do not go to prayer --- or anywhere else --- truly alone really unless the marriage fails in some critical way. With whom does a solitary or religious hermit share such a bond? God alone.

Solitude is a state of Communion and for the hermit it is a state of communion with God alone. This does not mean that the hermit does not carry others (often MANY others) in her heart within her solitude, but it does mean that she approaches this relationship without the bond (or the comfort of that bond) which married persons have. If prayer is, at times, marked not only by peace but by darkness or loneliness (something which can happen despite a continuing knowledge that God is there) or longing for a physical touch or an audible word, there is simply no way such a hermit can mitigate or soften this by remembering or looking forward to her later time with her husband --- at a mutual meal or when both come together and greet and share with each other after their own prayer periods, for instance. No, this Communion is sometimes marked by such darkness, etc and it calls for even greater faith and trust, and -- paradoxically -- greater physical solitude. Further, for the hermit there is no sharing of this prayer as there might be for married persons who come together after such a period. One moves from the prayer period to (perhaps) a silent meal fixed for oneself alone and shares even the darkness and loneliness (and all else that is in one's heart) with the One whose silent presence both comforts and sometimes exacerbates that darkness and loneliness. This is part of the meaning of Canon 603's phrase, "the silence of solitude" which is foundational to the eremitical life. It is far more profound and disturbing at times than simply refraining from turning on some music or filling the silence with some other distracting noise.

Eremitical Loneliness is the Loneliness of  Communion

It is also really important to realize that I am not describing some terrible or malignant loneliness here. Instead I am describing an aspect of communion and eremitical solitude itself, a dimension of the relationship with a transcendent God for one who still lives apart from him in many ways and gradually grows closer and closer even in and through such periods. Eremitical solitude includes darkness and loneliness not only because of yearnings for touch or audible communication, but because there is a longing for greater communion with God as well. Since God is the one the hermit is vowed to love as she would someone in marriage, and because she does indeed love others only THROUGH this love, even moments of darkness and loneliness are expressions of a call to ever greater Communion with God and ever greater solitude (and the silence of same) --- sometimes to the point of actual reclusion. Though their love and commitment are wonderful things which open a world of life and family to one another, a married couple are constrained by their commitment to one another and the demands of sexual/marital love from responding to or realizing this natural and inner dynamism of the solitary eremitical life.

Mission Impossible: A Couple Seeking Profession Under Canon 603

Regarding your second question, and the couple who were each seeking to become diocesan hermits, one must take all that I have just said and add to that the obstacles existing because Canon 603 eremitical life is an ecclesial vocation which must be carefully discerned by both individual and church over a relatively long period of time. Significantly it also involves public profession of the evangelical counsels (poverty, chastity or consecrated celibacy, obedience) BECAUSE it is one way of achieving admission to the consecrated state.

Let's start with this last element: admission to the consecrated state. The consecrated state is, by definition, characterized by consecrated celibacy. It celebrates a life of celibate love, NOT a life of sexual love and, as just mentioned, married love is ALWAYS a celebration of sexual love, even if the couple no longer has sexual intercourse; married love recalls this ultimate expression of total self-gift, is always an extension of it, always tends towards and anticipates it. While in the not-so recent past some persons were allowed to live as sister and brother (or to leave a marriage for religious life of some sort), this generally occurred during a period when the nature of married love was simply not so highly esteemed as it is today. Married life is a consecration of a life of this kind of love. In terms of church teaching and theology, it is mutually exclusive with admission to the consecrated state marked by celibate love. Today the Church does not encourage married couples to forego the highest gift and expression of the married state to live together as sister and brother; similarly, she does not admit married persons to profession and consecration under canon 603. Instead marriage --- even one marked by divorce but not annulled --- is ordinarily considered an impediment to such consecration just as it would ordinarily be an impediment to another marriage.

But this aside for the moment (and the vows of poverty and obedience as well!), consider the difficulties of a married couple trying to both become diocesan hermits. The discernment process is individual AND ECCLESIAL meaning the individual him/herself alone does not discern such a vocation. There is simply no way the Church can automatically admit both (or either) to profession and consecration on the basis of them announcing what is in their hearts. It is not, after all, a package deal. How would the church even begin to openly discern one spouse's vocation while the other spouse goes through a separate and equally honest (and often lengthy) discernment process --- either of which may end in the individual's determination as unsuited to or simply not called to this vocation? Does one spouse (or both) say to their diocese -- even implicitly -- "Don't consider professing me unless you agree to profess my spouse"? And yet, in coming to a diocese as they have, this is actually one message they probably DO give. Or, could a diocese admit one to temporary or even perpetual vows while making the other wait another several years or even eventually finding the other unsuited to such vows? No, it is a completely unworkable situation and I admit I don't see how any diocese would even begin to consider it precisely because neither person is truly solitary or free to discern the matter alone (individually) with the Church. Once we add back in the definition of the consecrated state or the content of the vows themselves and consider the church's responsibility with regard to sacramental marriages the whole notion becomes completely impossible.

I personally wonder what motivates the couple you mention or why they would seek such profession and consecration. They have their marriage vows and consecration. They are already called to this by God and it is a critically important and worthy vocation. Married people need to realize this and also realize that they are called to come to God together in the married state, through married love. If this means building in more physical solitude at some point, then they should do this, but not because they are called to be hermits. While every couple is called to prayer and penance, they are NOT called to the silence of solitude in an eremitical sense, or to celibacy, etc. And yet, these things DEFINE the hermit, whether lay or consecrated and whether the hermit is a solitary one or lives in community.

The Sound of Silence

I asked an old monk, "How long have you been here?"
"Forever," he answered. " I smiled.
"Fifty years, Father?"
"Forever."
Did you know St. Benedict?"
"We are novices together."
"Did you know Jesus?"
"He and I converse every day."
I threw away my silly smile, fell to my knees, and clutched his hand.
"Father, " I whispered, "Did you hear the original sound?"
" I am listening to the original sound."

Those who pray contemplatively know this experience. It is the experience of being at the center, of having everything make a new kind of sense and having it feel alive with a new kind of life and light; colors are more vibrant, flowers and plants seem lit from within with a unique iridescence; the gentle movement of the breeze through the branches occasions awe and even a sudden intake of breath as the everpresent movement of the Holy Spirit becomes symbolically "visible" for a moment. It is the experience of being part of the same story with our Sister, Mary, and our Brothers, Paul and Benedict, alive in the God who grounds us and resides deep in the core of our being, but who silently and as insistently summons us from without as well.

It is the experience of resting, really resting -- of being where one is meant to be, where one has ALWAYS been meant to be --- the experience of stepping out of time and taking up a place in the eternal heart of the Holy Trinity. God in us, we in Him, a communion of saints learning to love as God loves, to listen as God listens, to sing our lives and celebrate the singing of others' lives, to be the inestimable gifts to one another in Him we were always called to be --- and yet, always beginners, and always with everything ahead of us. It is the experience of being comprehended in every sense of that word: being profoundly heard, understood, known, held securely in God's hands, and completely encircled by his presence. It is the sound of silence and the compassionate space of contemplative solitude.

Time travel is an interesting subject for speculation, but for contemplatives, it is something known from regular experience. Every day eternity breaks in upon us. Every day we slip the bonds of mere temporality and participate in time's transfiguration. Chronos becomes Kairos; linear time dissolves into an eternal now, and our citizenship in this world is shown for the pale reflection it is of our truest citizenship in the Kingdom of God. But we do not do this to reject the created realm for some "supernatural" one, much less to leave it behind in a misguided anti-world asceticism. We do it so this world may BE transfigured, and God may come to be ALL in ALL.

Contemplation, after all, is not escape, but a quiet confrontation, a gentle capitulation to being, and the silent mediation of life; it is not flight, but the still celebration of an all-accepting and transforming presence. The hermitage or cell is separate from the world only so the world may be truly loved into its own in genuine intimacy --- for real intimacy requires distance as well as closeness. An anchorite has a window into the church and peeks out onto eternity as it breaks in on the world in the liturgy. But really, every true hermitage (and every true hermit!) is a window through which the love of the living God radiates to transform the world of space and time into heaven itself.