Canon 603, Misuses and Abuses: Part 2, Recognizing and Embracing the Charism of Solitary Eremitical Life

[[Hi Sister, your last post raised additional questions for me so I am writing to see if you can answer them. You said that lauras are very different than communities of hermits. Can you say what these are? You also described the flexibility of the eremitical life and described conditions that allowed for such flexibility. It seems to me though that these same conditions can lead to abuses and misuses of C 603. Has this happened? Is it common? Is Canon 603 itself enough to prevent such abuses or does the Church need something from Rome like the other poster mentioned --- a document like Vita Consecrata?]]

So, I hope my last post answered your question about some of the major differences between a c 603 laura and a community. Let me give the rest of your question a shot in this post. I want to start though by discussing the cause of the abuses we see (because yes, we see them and yes, this has an effect on further vocations).

Neglect of Charism: The Source of Abuses and Misuse of Canon 603

My own sense is that misuses and abuses in the application and use of canon 603 inevitably stem from one single source, namely, an ignorance of or failure to appreciate the actual charism of diocesan eremitical life. Because people (including Bishops and chanceries) don't actually understand or regard the vocation's nature as gift or the quality of that gift in concrete terms, the essential elements of the canon are treated as negotiable or susceptible to endless compromise and dispensation. I am identifying the charism of diocesan eremitism as a life of "the silence of solitude" lived by a solitary hermit, and lived, as the canon specifies, for the praise of God and the salvation of the world. The shorthand form of the charism is "the silence of solitude". The salvation it refers to and occasions takes a number of forms, no doubt, but one of the most important and necessary in today's world is the witness to and modeling of the transformation of isolation into genuine solitude possible with the grace of God for those multitudes who are left alone and estranged in a world marked by excessive mobility and in which the meaning of a life is gauged by the criteria of productivity, consumerism, wealth, and the like.

Essential Elements of the Canon Establish the Gift Quality of the Vocation

Once this is understood the essential elements of the canon (a vowed life of stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, according to a Rule of life the hermit writes herself and lives under the supervision of her Bishop) cannot be set aside or redefined to mean anything at all. Because the vocation is a gift especially to those who cannot simply opt out of the circumstances that isolate and limit them (situations like chronic illness, bereavement, old age, imprisonment, etc)--- not even for brief periods --- hermits must be able to live full-time solitude and in doing so witness to the redemption of isolation possible when one stands on the margins of society empowered by the grace of God. Understanding and respecting the gift eremitical life is to these persons would put an end to the possibility of some of the misuses and abuses of the canon we do see today: part-time hermits (hermits who work full-time outside the hermitage in very social roles and allot Saturdays (et al) to contemplative prayer), "hermits" who are professed merely because there is no other canon in the Revised Roman Code to profess an individual even though they are truly called to be ministerial or apostolic religious, "hermits" who are merely failures at life or who are so eccentric or misanthropic that their isolation is mistaken for authentic solitude and canon 603 is seen as a way of validating their lives, married hermits, and persons who simply live alone and are relatively pious.

All of these instances of misuse and misunderstanding occur when the elements of canon 603 are treated as optional or negotiable or are redefined to mean something less or other than they actually say. So, for instance, the silence of solitude is redefined as "silence and solitude" and treated merely as external things to be built into one's day rather than as the very goal of the life --- a way of describing the silence (and the song!) that results when one lives in union with God as well as the external environment that helps lead to this. Assiduous prayer and penance too are treated as quantifiable activities rather than as the quality of an obedient and articulate life steeped in and open to the active Word and presence of God. Stricter separation from the world is treated as the simple act of closing the hermitage door on reality rather than as a commitment to becoming holy and authentically human precisely as God's dialogue and covenant partner within a solitary context. "For the salvation of the world" is then an obscure phrase tacked onto what seems to be a thoughtless, selfish, and individualistic pursuit rather than being taken as a defining element of the vocation which marks it as one of generosity and love at its very heart. No specific person or group of people is seen as benefiting from the integral commitment to a life of genuine solitude when this phrase is cut off from concrete circumstances.

A Life of Compromise and Mediocrity

When all this happens it is a short step to a life of compromise and mediocrity. Once people fail to understand "the silence of solitude" as a description of the union with God which transforms all human weakness and poverty or redeems ANY form of isolation or estrangement without regard to productivity, wealth, buying power, status, and the like, the essential elements outlined in the canon become more or less dispensable. When it ceases to be not only the environment necessary for the diocesan hermit but the goal of her life as well the same thing happens. And as a result canon 603 can become a stopgap way to profess anyone who merely lives alone and fits under no other canon rather than the canon which is reserved for professing those who are truly already hermits in some essential way, whose lives witness to the dynamic embodied in the term "the silence of solitude," and who require profession under this canon in order to live out this embodiment as fully and integrally as possible.

As your questions recognize, flexibility can lead to abuse, but my own sense is that what is important in making sure there is genuine flexibility and not simply a casual disregard for the elements of the canon is a sense of the gift quality of the vocation. When the hermit understands and esteems the gift her life is to Church and world in very concrete terms she can be flexible out of love, not merely casual out of disregard or ignorance. At the same time she will not be rigid in her living out of this vocation to Christian freedom, because rigidity is a function of ignorance and lack of understanding (not to mention a lack of love) as much as is license.

On the Incidence and Significance of Misuse and Abuse of Canon 603

Are there many misuses or abuses of canon 603? No, not in absolute terms. But given the relative rarity of the vocation every one of these is akin to 100's of instances of abuse in other more common forms of consecrated life. Each one establishes a precedent, and in a vocation which is little-understood, even by Bishops, and where Bishops are, at least in part, dependent upon living paradigms of the nature and significance of the vocation for truly understanding the vocation, each precedent can have enormous influence, whether for good or for ill. Often the result of such instances is not the profession of others in the same way, but the refusal of Bishops to profess anyone because the vocation is made to look badly conceived and incredible by such misuses.

Do we need the Church to produce a document for Canon 603 like Vita Consecrata? I don't know. We certainly need Bishops and chancery personnel (not to mention those who wish to be professed under this canon!) to understand the true meaning of the central elements of the canon and WHY they are non-negotiable. Non-negotiable does not mean inflexible in expression or embodiment, but it does mean that these elements contribute to the gift quality of the vocation and that that will be lost if they are treated as expendable or infinitely elastic. Commentaries are clear that canon 603 is not a call to a life of merely external silence and solitude, nor to simply living alone, doing one's own thing, and being fairly pious in the process. What must happen is for Bishops and their chancery personnel to educate themselves on canon 603; similarly, as mentioned in my previous post, they must appreciate that what is canonically possible because it is not prohibited is not the same as what is prudent for the vocation itself. If a document from Rome can do these things, then perhaps it could be helpful.

Hermits and Eucharistic Spirituality, Pointed Questions

[[Dear Sister Laurel,
How is it that hermits reflect the centrality of Eucharist in their spiritual lives if they do not attend Mass daily? I heard you remark in another context that you didn't attend Mass if solitude required otherwise. My understanding is that religious are required canonically to attend Mass daily if that is possible, and you yourself say on this blog that Eucharist is the center of everything that happens at your hermitage. So, how is it you can skip Mass just because it is more convenient to remain in solitude and still claim the title Sister and assert how central Eucharist is in your life? My other question is how do you receive Communion if there is no one there but yourself? Isn't self-communication forbidden to Catholics?]]

These topics, as you apparently are aware, came up on the Catholic Hermits list. One person there argued that hermits, like anyone else, should get to Mass as often as possible (daily!), and should not miss simply because it was "inconvenient" to one's solitude. Since, they argued, religious are required to participate at Mass in this way it makes sense that diocesan hermits are also so required. Others have argued that in today's world of easy transportation and numerous parishes people should be able to get to Mass daily one way or another and that hermits certainly should do so. Some know hermits who attend the parish Mass each day, or at least most every day and argue on that basis. My own argument was that fidelity to solitude sometimes meant not getting to daily Mass. I believe it is possible to develop a strong Eucharistic spirituality in solitude even without getting to Mass daily and that is what I want to look at in this post.

On the Place of Solitude in the Hermit's Life

However, before I say more in response to your question I need to clarify one critical point. Your comments include a misconstrual of what I said, and a misunderstanding regarding the nature of eremitical solitude. Namely, hermits do not skip Mass merely because it is inconvenient to their solitude; they do so because solitude is their full-time calling and the actual occasion, environment, and resulting quality of whatever union with God is achieved in their life. Solitude is not just a means for the hermit, but a goal as well. In this perspective, solitude (or what Canon 603 refers to as the "silence of solitude") is not a self-indulgent luxury which just happens to provide an environment for other things in the hermit's life (though external silence and physical solitude will certainly serve in this way). It is instead the reality which is achieved together with God when a hermit is faithful to (among other things) long term external silence and solitude. Thus, it is important that the hermit  maintain her faithfulness to this long term external silence and solitude. Solitude is, again, both the means to and the goal of the hermit's existence because eremitical solitude itself is a form of communal or ecclesial existence and an expression of union with God and all that is precious to God.

In saying this I mean that the hermit's life is to give witness to the union with God which is achieved in solitude as well as the "silence of solitude" which is an expression and sign of this union, and so, to the redemption of all forms of human isolation, alienation and estrangement achieved therein. They are called to come to wholeness and holiness in solitude and their witness is to the most foundational relationship present in the human being, the relationship with God who is creator and ground of all existence. In other words, although community is important to the hermit, it is primarily the koinonia (communion) of solitude that is their vocation. They are called by God through the agency of his Church to the very rare and paradoxical reality of eremitical solitude --- a form of union with God and others marked by and grounded in aloneness with the Alone. Unless we understand that solitude is not isolation, not alienation, nor a feeble excuse for the misanthrope, and certainly not a luxury for the hermit, we may believe that it conflicts with a truly Eucharistic spirituality. My argument is that it does not and that the way the hermit approaches attendance at Mass is dependent upon this way of seeing things.

Eucharistic Spirituality in General

When we speak of Eucharistic Spirituality what is it we are talking about then? And for the hermit who claims that the Eucharist is at the heart of everything that happens in the hermitage, what is she really talking about --- especially if the Mass is not (or is rarely) celebrated at the hermitage? Of course it means a spirituality focused on the Eucharist itself and the hermit will usually (not always) reserve Eucharist in her hermitage, pray in the presence of the Eucharist, celebrate Communion services (Liturgies of the Word with Communion), and so forth. But even more than this everything at the hermitage will be geared towards Christ's incarnation climaxed in his cross and resurrection. It seems to me that the focus involves two particular and interrelated processes: first, that, in a dynamic of kenosis or self-emptying, the Word is made flesh, and second, that, in a dynamic of conversion, reconciliation, and transfiguration, flesh (in the Pauline sense) is made Word. Everything that happens is meant to be an occasion of one or both of these and at the center of it all is the Presence of the Risen Christ in Word and Sacrament, reminding, summoning, challenging, nourishing, and consoling.

Eucharistic Spirituality, The Word Made Flesh

God has chosen to come to us as a human person. More than that he has chosen to be present in a power perfected in weakness (asthenia). He is present in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. He enters into sin and death, the truly or definitvely godless realities and transforms them with his presence. In other words he makes what was literally godless into sacraments of his love, his being God for and with others. For me the Eucharist is a symbol of this specific process and presence (and I mean symbol in the most intensive sense as that reality which does not merely stand for something else (that would be a sign or metaphor) but rather as something that participates in the very reality it mediates). While Mass is the place where we literally re-member all of this, where bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, where the Word of God is proclaimed with power, Eucharistic Spirituality seems to me to be that spirituality where all this is worked out in everyday life so that every meal is holy, every reality is looked at with eyes that can see God's presence there, and where one is nourished, challenged, consoled, etc, with that presence in the unexpected place and way.

Eucharistic spirituality, is a spirituality which is open to God's presence in ordinariness, not only to his presence at Mass or the more exalted moments of prayer, etc, but in the humbleness of human life generally. And for the hermit this means in the solitariness of ordinary life --- for it is in solitude that we are generally weakest, and our brokenness is most clearly revealed. My own focus in the hermitage is the transformation of ordinariness into Sacrament. This is essentially Eucharistic. Everything should serve this. Everything within the hermitage serves the Word becoming flesh, the allowing of God to dwell within, to love, minister to, and to transform with his presence. Everything becomes a matter of dying to self and rising in God, to learning obedience (hearing and responding to the Word of God) in a way which leads to purity of heart. Yes, often (though not always) Eucharist is present in the hermitage, but whether or not it is present it remains the living symbol of what everything in the hermitage can and is meant to be if given over to the purposes of eremitical life. I sincerely believe that if the hermit practices Eucharistic spirituality she recognizes that her hermitage itself is meant to be a tabernacle situated in the midst of her community and that her own life is bread broken and wine poured out for others.

Eucharistic Spirituality, Flesh Made Word

The second and interrelated process which makes up a genuinely Eucharistic spirituality focuses on what happens to the hermit --- or really, to any Christian for whom Eucharist is central --- namely, that they become a Word Event which embodies and proclaims the Gospel of God in Christ. For the hermitage to become tabernacle, for the hermit to become bread broken and wine poured out for others, the hermit herself must, over time, be transformed and transfigured.

Flesh, in the Pauline sense of the term, means the whole person, body and soul, under the sway of sin. It means being a person of divided heart, one who is enmeshed in processes and realities which are resistant to Christ. It means being less than fully human, and in terms of language, it means being distorted forms of language events which are less than a univocal hymn of praise and gratitude --- screams of pain and anguish, lies or hypocritical formulations and identity, utterances (of anger, prejudice, arrogance, indifference, selfishness, etc) which foster division, insecurity, and suffering for others, a noisy or insecure presence which cannot abide silence and is unable to listen or respond lovingly and with compassion --- all are the less than human forms of language event we are, at least at times. These are also examples of what Paul would have termed "flesh" (sarx).

In the power of the Spirit, these can be transformed, transfigured into articulate expressions of Gospel wholeness, joy, peace, hope, and challenge. That which is less than human can become authentically human; sinners are reconciled to become persons who are truly and wholly authored by God. As one steeps oneself in and seriously contends with the Word of God one is transformed into an expression of that Word. In silence and solitude flesh can become Word just as the Word becomes Flesh. All of this is genuinely Eucharistic spirituality I think, and it remains Eucharistic even if the hermit does not celebrate Eucharist with her parish community daily. For the hermit, those privileged celebrations lead back to silence while solitude and the silence of solitude prepare for the hermit's participation at Mass. But they are all part of a single spirituality in which Christ is received as guest and gift and ordinary reality is transformed into an expression of his presence. Such a spirituality is open to anyone who cannot actually get to Mass more than once a week, and sometimes less frequently.  It is inspired by the Eucharist and modeled on Eucharistic transformation, life, and hope. In fact, I suspect it may well be an instance of genuinely Eucharistic spirituality our world truly needs.

Hermits and Self-Communication

Your last question was also raised on the Catholic Hermits list. It is customary that people do not self-commu-nicate and there are very good theological reasons for this, but solitary hermits are an accepted exception. Canonists are apparently clear (according to a clarification offered on the Catholic Hermits list) that this is a unique situation which calls for such an exception to general custom and theological wisdom. It is also, it seems to me, a sign of how truly esteemed and unusual is the hermit vocation for such an exception to be made. The Church allows this exception precisely because of the importance of eremitical solitude lived in the heart of the church. I would argue that eremitical solitude, to whatever extent it is lived authentically, is essentially Eucharistic --- even when the hermit is unable to leave her hermitage to attend Mass --- and is therefore a very good reason for this singular exception to be made.

In any case, hermits should certainly be careful of their use of this permission. Their own communions must always be seen as extensions of the parish and/or diocesan liturgy, their hermitages must be understood as tabernacles of Christ's presence, and the silence of solitude must be embraced as a natural expression of communal life and love. While the hermit does not literally receive Eucharist from the hands of another during Communion services in the hermitage, she does receive this Sacrament as a gift of the parish community and so, from their hands. The communal nature of the eremitical life is constantly underscored by the presence of Eucharist in the hermitage, and the quality of being "alone with the Alone" FOR the salvation of the world is underscored in this way as well. Eremitical life is not selfish, not individualistic or privatistic, and emphatically not a matter of merely living alone -- much less doing so in whatever way one likes. The presence of Eucharist both symbolizes and so, reminds and calls us to realize this (make this real) more and more fully everyday. I should note that it is entirely reasonable to expect that should a hermit ever tend to take the Eucharist (and especially the reserved Eucharist) for granted or become arrogant or simply lax in her praxis and perspective, then, at least for a time, she should forego even the reservation of the Eucharist, and get to Mass more often, until she recovers her proper perspective and devotion.

Summing Things Up

For me the bottom line in all of this is that while the celebration of Eucharist is indeed the source and summit of ecclesial life --- and it certainly is that for the hermit as well --- a truly Eucharistic spirituality does NOT necessarily require that one go to Mass daily. (It does require one celebrate with one's faith community regularly and frequently!!) The hermit's life will be imprinted with the cross, be emptied, broken and given to others precisely insofar as she is faithful to eremitical solitude lived in the heart of the Church. She will celebrate every day, and do so with her parish faith community, even when the demands of solitude mean she cannot be physically present with them at Mass. If this is not the case, then we are implicitly saying to many people who pray, suffer, and love at least as fully and well as do daily Mass  participants (or diocesan hermits!) --- but who cannot get to Mass so regularly --- that they cannot be said to have or even be able to develop a truly Eucharistic spirituality. I am positive we do not want to do that, wouldn't you agree?

Postscript: Since this was originally posted the question has come up about people who never get to Mass for reasons of illness and disability. In such situations reservation of Eucharist is not a good idea. A better solution, including for hermits, is to depend on EEM's who bring the person Communion from the parish Mass. This maintains a necessary and vital (living) link between the person and the faith community as well as the essential linkage between Eucharist received in the home or hermitage and Eucharist celebrated at Mass.  Since solitude is a communal reality, it cannot be devalued and allowed to devolve into isolation (eremitical reclusion is a different animal and profoundly communal); the link with the faith community, especially with an ecclesial vocation, must be maintained.

see also: Notes from Stillsong Hermitage: On the Reservation of Eucharist by Hermits and Feast of Saint Peter Damian

On Spiritualizing "Stricter Separation From the World"

I received the following excellent comments from a friend and diocesan hermit about something I wrote on "stricter separation from the world." They have been edited to make them more general in application, but raise a very good point on which I have been apparently unclear. I want to try to remedy that in this post.

[[Regarding “greater separation from the world”, I’ve read on your blog about separation from what isn’t Christ-like, was that it? More a spiritual separation/renunciation from whatever is worldly. I still believe that physical separation is essential because interpretations can lead to [a] situation [where one really isn't a hermit at all]. [In an apostolic sister's life] . . . she prays and serves God. What could be considered unworldly about that? . . . Emphasizing physical separation and restricted social contact [is necessary to understand the eremitical life]. I think we need to be careful about spiritualizing the separation. It’s also a practical, physical separation which is a sacrifice in relation to apostolate, work and visits.]]

First of all, let me say I agree completely with your comments. It was not my intention to spiritualize the essential element in Canon 603 which requires "stricter separation from the world." However, I did want to indicate that this element has a primarily spiritual sense even for canonists, and thus too for Canon 603. I see this as a different matter than spiritualizing the term. In that context, "the world" is defined as "that which is not redeemed or open to the salvific action of Christ" (cf A Handbook on Canons 573-746, "Norms. . ." O'Hara, p 33) and I would add that it is also, "that which promises fulfillment or completion apart from him."   In particular, the first problem I was trying to confront which created the context for some of my posts, was the situation involving a person who simply closes the hermitage door on everything outside this place and concludes that they have thus achieved stricter separation from the world. This is theologically and spiritually naive at best, and simply dishonest and even sacrilegious at worst. What is far more likely in such a situation is that the would-be hermit has shut the world securely in with her while the hermitage has become an outpost of "the world" of illusions, falsehood, and distortion in the process.

After all, in the act of closing the "hermitage" door in this specific way, one leaves one's own heart unchanged (and, as long as one embraces this perspective, unchangeable) to the extent she embraces falsehood in a foundational way! But the heart is precisely the first thing which requires attention. In its divisions, distortions, woundedness, and enmeshment, it is not only an instance of "the world," it is the source of all the rest of the distortion and illusion which represents "the world" more generally. In my view stricter separation from the world, then, is a way of speaking first of all about conversion of heart and the freedom from enmeshment in the the structures, behaviors, values, distorted relationships, etc, of reality which is resistant to Christ. It is a goal of eremitical life more than it is a means to that, though it will also necessarily include the means to that goal.

In monastic life this goal is usually referred to as conversatio morum --- a continuing conversion of self where one's heart is made whole and undivided and one's whole self is therefore made true and holy. I think this is truly the heart of the element of SSW referred to in the Canon. But, as just noted, SSW will also include and require the hermit to embrace the means to this goal. How could she not? One cannot allow oneself to be wholly embraced by God and embrace him in return if one cannot even hear his voice clearly. Far less can one do so if one is seduced by and entangled in other realities and will not or cannot let go of those. Neither (more about this in another post) can one see reality clearly for its essential goodness and potential, nor address it in a prophetic way if one is wholly enmeshed in it. One MUST step apart physically as well. Just as physical solitude is necessary to achieve the eremitical goal of the silence OF solitude, so too does the achievement of purity of heart and authentic humanity require physical separation from the ambiguities, distortions, and untruths of reality more generally. (This will mean physical separation even from much of what is good and holy as well. Partly this is a function of the ambiguity of reality; partly it is because the hermit witnesses to the priority of the reality and relationship which is the source and ground of every other reality and relationship, the One thing necessary, namely, God alone.)

But at the same time, just as we know that physical solitude per se is NOT the true goal of the Canon nor of eremitical life, neither is physical separation the goal or primary meaning of the term "stricter separation from the world." The problem on one hand is not to mistake the means (physical separation) for the goal (personal conversion and healing) nor on the other hand, as you say so well, to believe one can reach one's goal (personal conversion and union with God) by jettisoning essential means (physical separation). In the first instance the "hermitage" might well simply be the isolated residence of the unconverted misanthrope or failure at life --- and we know if it is to be worthy of the name "hermitage" it must not be this! In the second instance, we will find people completely immersed in the activities, relationships, structures, and rhythms of the world who simply call themselves "hermits". They will empty the terms hermitage and hermit of meaning because while they live a different kind of spirituality in the midst of everyday reality, they may merely consider the term eremitical "a metaphor for (their) lives" rather than a literal state and vocation to be lived out.

There were a couple of related problems I was also dealing with in regard to authentic versus false eremitical life in the posts which gave the impression I was spiritualizing stricter separation from the world and I will bring those up in another post. In the meantime I am very grateful for the comments which provided this opportunity to clarify my earlier remarks, and more importantly, the nature of eremitical separation from the world.

On Widowhood and Silence

[[Sr. Laurel - I was unable to be there for the whole of the interview you did with Sisters Julie and Maxine recently, but I have now obtained the recording from iTunes. I have a question which I would have liked to have asked at the time. Before you took your vows with your Bishop, was there a period of formation for you? Was it formal or informal? Was there anything that paralleled the temporary vows that other religious take during their first years in a religious order?

I am a widow and I'm too old for a formal religious vocation (I'm 73), but I have been looking for whatever my life should be for the time I have left. I was so impressed with all you said and with your blog which I've read rather extensively since the interview. I know I am not a hermit, but I am trying to learn to live creatively and with integrity in the unfamiliar quiet of my new single life. I would like to think that someday I could really live in solitude with God without trying to escape the silence. Anyhow, thanks so much for sharing with us of the Nuns Life community! It was a blessing to listen!]]

Hi there,
Many thanks for your comments! I am glad you were able to join us, and also grateful for your questions.

While Canon 603 does not specify either formation or temporary vows, it is usual to require both because both are ordinarily necessary. (In particular exceptional cases, especially where someone has been vowed and also lived as a hermit for some time, a diocese may decide it is prudent to forego temporary profession, but this is rare, and also generally risky for all involved.) When dioceses require temporary vows of someone (the normal pattern), they usually do so for a period of from three to five years. Some use a period of two years, but none less than this as far as I know. Dioceses could and do also extend the period of temporary vows, of course, because this period is still one of discernment for all involved.

Formation is a tricky question. As I have written here before, no diocese "forms" their hermits. They expect them to find ways to get this formation on their own. Often they expect the person to have this formation before they contact the chancery with their petition to become a diocesan hermit. They may suggest resources to a candidate if they have and know of them, but usually that is all. Generally diocesan personnel have neither the time nor the expertise to undertake the formation of a hermit --- nor is it really their "job"! Also, sometimes there is the basic wisdom of the desert at play in their thinking: "remain in your cell and your cell will teach you everything." Dioceses expect hermits to "learn" their "hermiting" and be formed by living in solitude and coming to know the silence of solitude. However, at the same time, they require a diocesan hermit to have some theology, knowledge of the vocation and its history, to understand and be prepared for making and living the vows, etc. So, I would have to say formation is generally informal but also an imperative which is both demanding and mainly rooted in dependence on the initiative of the one called to solitude.

There are some attempts to help with this. Network of Diocesan Hermits, for instance, though fledgling still, provides some mentoring for verified candidates for diocesan hermit profession. This can help fill the formation gap though especially here the initiative and impetus falls on the candidate's shoulders. Online courses are available on monastic life, history, and theology for very little money. More important is probably the work one does with a Spiritual Director, and I would encourage you to find someone for ongoing SD who can assist you in making the transition you described, and just generally developing your spiritual life (something we all need to do) within the new context of widowhood.

One vocation that is not canonical (yet), but has been mentioned by Pope John Paul II and others is that of consecrated widow. I would suggest you look into this for yourself as well (because you may decide you are not a lay hermit or called to be such). If, after considering this and learning what you can about it, you decide this might be a way to go, you can get an appointment with someone in vocations at your chancery, or (perhaps) with your Bishop to discuss options. It may be that he would be open to exploring this vocation with you. (Because of Canon 605 Bishops are obliged to be open to new forms of consecrated life; this could be one of those.) What you are dealing with is what widows all over the world deal with and finding a way to explore the meaning of your life as widow would be very helpful to many. There is a blog that has stuff about this vocation --- I think by a Cistercian nun, but I may be wrong about that. I will send you the link if I can locate the blog and you can contact the author. Anyway, definitely do some research online about it and see if it captures your imagination!

The problem of learning to live with and within silence is difficult for many people --- maybe even most. One thing you might consider doing is journaling when things get tough and the urge strikes to turn on the TV, run out shopping, call someone on the phone --- all to merely fill or distract from the silence. Another thing you might try is to make a cup of tea or coffee, and simply sit in the silence being attentive to what is actually going on all around AND WITHIN you. Let yourself smell the drink, feel the warmth, taste it, etc and while doing this call upon God to be with you and let the silence work on you in a different way. It will happen because you are choosing to allow it instead of fighting it. You might set up a table somewhere where you can work on a jigsaw puzzle (or a regular space for some other hobby you enjoy and can turn to) when things get difficult or cabin fever hits, but where you can attend to the silence in a new way as well.

At this point in your life it may well be that silence is a symbol only of physical solitude, and so too, of absence and emptiness, but in time, and with practice, it can become one of presence and fullness. If you choose any of these (or other) tactics they need to be part of a strategy as well as a time where and when you also consciously turn to God --- not to change things in some abrupt way, but simply because he is there and wants to share what is happening with you. Allow him this space and time and do it while you are especially attentive to the pain, loss, and other sensations you are experiencing. Lengthen these periods as you are able. None of this is easy, but over time such praxis will change the character of the silence you know now and help you to live with and within it. You may well even come to live from it as you discover what Canon 603 calls "the silence of solitude" and Eastern Christianity refers to as hesychasm!

Validation vs Redemption of Isolation: Questions

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, in your own vocation did you move from the idea of "validation" of isolation to the redemption of that in solitude? Since you say that dioceses should be clear the transition should be negotiated before admittance to temporary profession, is it the case that this happens "neatly and cleanly"? What I mean by this is is one looking for validation of isolation one day and looking at its redemption the next? Is one dealing with isolation one day and solitude as you have defined it the next? ]]

Great questions! And important ones. The answer to the first question is yes, in part. I was looking for a way to validate my own isolation or aloneness, and so in part, my motives with regard to Canon 603 were unworthy. However (and thanks be to God!), in larger part there was something more at work than this for, as I have explained before, I was looking for a context in which all the parts of my life could make sense and be truly fruitful (an element of "making sense" in my mind). This need or yearning was deeper and truer than the more egocentric motives. What I was seeking to contextualize were all of the gifts, but also all of the weaknesses, deficiencies, and even brokennesses of my life. This, I think, is a yearning for transcendence and meaning, a yearning for God, though I would not have identified it so easily that way 27 years ago and more.

Thus, in my own journey to eremitical profession, it took some time to even recognize, much less admit, the merely selfish motives and distinguish them from those which were of God and reflected his will. It took longer to tease them apart in order to see them clearly. Thus, too, for many years, elements of both co-existed within me and struggled for dominance. It was only through spiritual direction and the personal work associated with that that the truly unworthy motives were mainly dealt with and their roots healed, while the more authentic motives were strengthened and purified allowing it to become clear that I was pursuing this vocation because, unusual and paradoxical as it was, it was the way to living and loving fully for me as a whole human being. In other words, I was called by God to this.

But while there was significant ambiguity, there was also a point when a clear shift took place. It didn't happen in a single day and instead was more like lots of small bits and pieces coming together over time (years) so that in the space of a few weeks (or maybe less) everything had changed for me. (This may be what some refer to as a "paradigm shift." I suppose this could have happened in a moment, but really it took some time for me to realize not only that a remarkable shift had occurred but to understand what the shift was. In a way, I also had to let go of a habitual way of seeing as a piece of the transition; that letting go took time.) So, no, the transition is not neat and clean as you put it if by that you mean black and white, but it is clear and describable. I realized that I had somehow moved or been moved to a place where isolation no longer defined me, and instead, that I was right smack in the heart of things and being asked to live from this reality more and more every day. In Merton's language, the door to solitude had been opened to me. In my own experience, I knew I was a hermit in some essential way, whether or not I would ever be professed according to Canon 603. Illness was still an ever-present reality, but at the same time, it was no longer the defining reality of my life. Hardly anything had changed, and yet, nothing at all was the same.

Still, illness, which has crippled and isolated in so many ways, retains power, and letting go of behaviors associated with its domination takes time (and usually assistance!). Learning what is truly possible in this new context where the values of "the world" ought to hold no sway, as well as coming to terms with the ways one's limitations still preclude some things is part of this as well. Even so, this struggle had for me the quality of a kind of "mopping up" after the main battle has been won or the firestorm been put out. It was really as though the outcome was no longer in question. As with the crucifixion, the power of death was definitively broken but death still had some power until God became (becomes!) all in all. The "mopping up" I experience(d) is a piece of moving to a new reality, to taking hold of it with both hands (or letting it take hold of me) and living from it with all my heart.

As a kind of postscript to my answer, it is the growth of this last piece which I associate with the silence of solitude more than with simply external silence or physical solitude. One finds that God and oneself are a covenant reality (really, one's very Self is such a relationship with God), and one grows to embody it more and more as a hermit. There are still bits of unworthy motives, things needing healing, etc, but essentially one KNOWS (in the intimate Biblical sense) that this covenant relationship lived out in the eremitical silence of solitude is not merely a vocational path but the essence of one's personhood. In other words, the silence of solitude is what is created by God and the hermit together in an eremitical environment of silence AND solitude. It is both present reality, environment, and goal of the eremitical life.

Thus, the growth never stops. One has had the door of solitude (union) opened to one and stepped through. What lies before one is an unexplored "country", a largely unexplored love, really, which is infinite in scope. Everything which once isolated one is now capable of mediating meaning and God's love. It may, in fact, also marginalize, but it is the marginalization of the prophet, or of anyone who must stand back from a reality in order to speak God's Word to and into it. For this reason, it is a marginalization which paradoxically also places one in the heart of reality --- especially the Church and the world which she (inter)penetrates.

I hope I have actually answered your questions. If not, or if my response raises more questions, please get back to me --- as always.

Charism, Counterfeits, and Canon 603

I was drawn to a headline online about the growth of the number of hermits in Britain. The story was a huge disappointment, however, and it was annoying and frustrating to boot. With a subtext of genuine and rightful concern for an aging population in Britain, the reporter told two stories, one of which was the following:

[[Tom Leppard is by no means an ornamental hermit. I interviewed him . . . for my book on English eccentrics. After a brutal convent education, and retired from the armed forces, Tom Leppard moved to London, which he loathed. It made him realise that every time in his life he'd been unhappy people had been involved. So Leppard vowed to become a hermit and moved to a remote part of the Isle of Skye. Before leaving London he had 99.2 per cent of his flesh tattooed with leopard spots, projecting his acute sense of apartness on to his skin.

That was more than 20 years ago. Tom is 73 now and – when we finally meet, after I track him down in his remote lair with the help of a local fisherman – he is wearing a woolly hat, a fleece with a flap that covers his groin, and very little else. His home, Paradise, as he calls it, is very neat. Most of his daily chores are aimed at keeping it that way. At the heart of his encampment is a cave made from the remains of a sheep pen and bits of timber from nearby beaches. He survives on tins of food he buys with the pension he picks up when he kayaks over to the mainland.

Before we can chat, he has to find his dentures. "Haven't spoken to anyone in a while, see," he explains. Leppard says he was lonely in London but never gets lonely now. But why choose such an extreme path? Leppard puts it simply: "I'm selfish. I've got all this," he nods at the view that sweeps past a flank of Scottish scarp. "And I want to keep it. I don't want to share it with anybody." As well as reminding us that it's possible to live without material possessions, by their example Woodcock and Leppard remind us not to confuse the words "alone" and "lonely". Companionship is not always a prerequisite to fulfilment. As our population gets older and we grow increasingly fond of living on our own, this is more relevant now than ever before.]]

Despite the humor (and the pathos) of the portrait it is one which causes authentic diocesan, lay, or religious hermits to cringe. It is a perfect example (though not as subtle as some) of the attempt to validate one's isolation by applying the term "hermit." I have to say I am surprised that --- important as are the concern for isolated elderly in Britain, and the message the author desires Leppard's life to convey --- the reporter could consider this particular portrait as one which reminds older persons that "companionship is not always a prerequisite to fulfillment," etc. How in the world the life of Tom Leppard represents one of "fulfillment" is an enigma I doubt the author could really explain.

I am also surprised that although Leppard is surely not "an ornamental hermit" (a term which refers to solitary persons who might be hired to live at the bottom of someone's garden to serve as an estate "ornament" for instance) a life characterized as essentially wounded, bitter, selfish, misanthropic, and completely eccentric --- not to say bizarre --- could be seen as exemplary of authentic eremitical life. Yes, Leppard certainly illustrates all the stereotypes I have written about in the last three years, but really, is this the best the reporter could have done in the attempt to draw positive lessons for an aging British population, most of whom will live their last years alone? Unless the entire article was tongue in cheek (and I wholly and sincerely doubt it was!), the bottom line seems to be, "Not to worry, if you have to grow old alone, defensive antisocial craziness is a numbing comfort!"

But, this story was also like a splash of cold water reminding me that the number of people who know the term hermit applies to something far more positive and selfless than the story of Mr Leppard is very small indeed. My own circle of acquaintances and friends is very much an exception in this, and I need to remember that. Ordinarily, even if the attitude towards hermits is more neutral and less negative, the term "hermit" is simply one that meets blank stares. The percentage of people who ask me "What order are you?" and look completely lost at the response, "I am a diocesan hermit" is huge. Rarely do I hear, "Oh, I have heard of that!" Given the rarity of the vocation and the youth of the Canon governing it, not to mention the relative hiddenness of hermits living under it, this is completely understandable. In any case the term "hermit" is not well understood --- sometimes even by the church's hierarchy and chancery personnel whose job it is to discern and nurture such vocations!

I had a couple of conver-sations with another diocesan hermit this week and this lack of under-standing came up as a real issue, especially with regard to Bishops and their chancery staff. What I came to conclude the bottom line in all of this is is a failure to understand not merely the essential elements of the life (a very real problem), but above all a failure to see clearly what constitutes the unique charism and mission of the diocesan hermit. I say this because once one understands how and why hermits are a gift to the church and world, and how it is they contribute concretely to the salvation of that world, one cannot really count the essential elements as negotiable or mistake counterfeit "hermits" for authentic ones any longer. Eremitical vocations, and especially those under Canon 603 need to understand and reflect the gift quality of the lives characterized in the canon --- and not in some merely abstract way, but in ways that the isolated elderly, among others, can really be empowered by and take hope from.

I have written a lot about the silence of solitude in the past week or so and I will return to this as I try to sketch out the unique charism of the diocesan hermit in greater detail. For the moment though it is important to see the vast difference between portraits like that of Tom Leppard and those of authentic eremitical life in the church. The latter do indeed affirm the things the reporter WISHED Leppard's life affirmed. They are indeed a gift of the Holy Spirit in this way. But counterfeits like Tom Leppard in this article make the vocation appear ridiculous and underscore the vast difference between lives characterized merely by silence AND solitude (aloneness), and those which are expressions of the silence OF solitude.

The Silence of Solitude and the Redemption of Isolation (#7)

[[ Sr. Laurel, Could you please say something more about the distinction between "validating one's isolation" and redeeming it? I don't really get the first part of that at all even if I see where the change from isolation to solitude is a positive thing.]]

Yes, sorry, I should have explained that better. What I mean is that many of us (and many who are called to the eremitical "silence of solitude") begin with situations which marginalize and even isolate us. Chronic illness is the most common situation I know of and it is the one I am personally familiar with. Chronic illness, as I have written here before isolates and causes various forms of dislocation. The rhythm and tempo of one's life is simply different than that of most people, and depending on the illness involved one may be unable to drive or even use public transportation easily in ways which allow one to be more independent. Ordinarily poverty accompanies serious illness or disability, due to the inability to work, study (perhaps), etc. One is dependent upon others' assistance more than usual and the relationships may be unequal and not those of peers. In terms of the Church those with serious illness may be ministered to but are rarely seen as a source of ministry themselves. Certainly they cannot usually become religious if they feel such a call, and as lay persons, their lives are also often undervalued. One finds that with every scale we ordinarily use, except that of the Gospel, the chronically ill are invalided and invalidated.

Canon 603, the Canon which governs the solitary eremitical vocation in the Church can seem like a way of validating this isolation. Here I mean that it may seem that this is a context for making this isolated life valid or worth something again. (Think of a parking lot ticket as an analogy for the sense in which I am using "validate" here. It can be validated during a visit to a nearby store or doctor's office, for instance. Unless it is stamped, approved, "validated" it is seen as being without value. Once this occurs it become worth something it was not worth before.) When I first began considering the place of Canon 603 and the nature of the life it outlined I sensed that perhaps this would be a perfect context which allowed all the elements of my own life to make sense: my gifts, talents, education, yearning for God and commitment to a vowed life, as well as my deficiencies, weaknesses, and brokenness. This is actually not a bad reason to begin discerning whether one is called to eremitical life, but it is a far cry from actually doing so, and even further from living such a life! Here one's solitariness is more a form of isolation and alienation. Even if one were prematurely allowed to make vows according to this canon, one would not YET have discerned a true eremitical vocation nor become a hermit as the Canon itself defines her. Something else must take place first.

That "event", that thing which must happen first is the redemption of one's isolation and the transformation of it into genuine solitude. It is this that allows a person to look around at what once was an apart-ment in both the usual and literal senses and say, "this is a hermitage and I am a hermit living in, from, and for communion with God!" It is this that makes of illness a subtext in one's life rather than its theme song! It is this transformation that makes of what was --- in worldly terms --- an absurd, merely tragic, or even meaningless life instead something of inestimable worth (not simply because every person has such dignity in the eyes of God) but because now this life, this way of being limited and marginalized, with all its weakness, brokenness, inability, etc is actually an effective and significant gift of the Holy Spirit to both Church and World. The accomplishment of this transformation is something only the grace of God can do. Thus, my other blog articles on "Lemons and Lemonade" or (a la Merton) the door to solitude ONLY being opened from within (by solitude itself), and thus too a part of the reason for my insistence that a candidate for diocesan eremitical life who wishes to make profession of vows in order to accept the public rights and responsibilities of this life must be, in some essential way, a hermit already.

What one must do is move from a life dominated by external silence and aloneness which are defined in terms of absence, alienation, and isolation, to a life where these serve and reflect the deeper and graced reality of "the silence OF solitude." Isolation must be redeemed or transformed into authentic (dialogical or relational) solitude, and this only occurs by the grace (i.e., the powerful presence and action) of God. One must, in some way move (and be moved) from the silence of voicelessness or the inarticulateness of a scream to the freedom and articulateness of what the New Testament calls parrhesia, an empowered and empowering speech --- even if this voice is rarely heard by the world at large. Further, those in the Church whose job it is to discern and profess those truly called to Canon 603 vocations must be clear on this distinction and affirm that the transition and transformation has been negotiated before temporary profession --- even if it still needs consolidation and internalization in more profound and extensive ways.

Again, this is one of the places where the distinction between "silence and solitude" and "the silence OF solitude" is crucially important. I suspect that this particular defining element of Canon 603 is NOT well enough understood --- not by chanceries, not by candidates or aspirants for profession, and not even by some diocesan hermits! (I say this because I myself wrote a Rule of Life which substituted "silence and solitude" for the accurate canonical phrase, "the silence of solitude" and that was only 5 or 6 years ago! I say it also because I think every diocesan hermit I have spoken to in the past several years has done the same thing at one time or another -- sometimes consistently -- despite the fact that available commentary on the Canon is clear about the special significance of this term!)

Validating one's isolation in the negative sense I am using the term involves applying a term to it which makes it seem more acceptable. It falls short of really giving meaning to something in a way which truly transforms it and makes it of great worth. We can call a loner or a chronically il;l person, for instance, a hermit and "validate" (try to make "valid" or meaningful) their isolation. Those who are isolated in some sense may seek to use Canon 603 in this way. This, of itself, does not change their isolation though it does appear to make it less worthless, tragic, or absurd. Of course, in the process it also effectively makes eremitical life itself essentially about isolation and alienation rather than authentic solitude --- only now we have sugar coated this with a bit of a lie (in the form of a stereotype or caricature) so the real bitterness is easier for everyone to swallow. Well-meaning as this might be it is a practice which empties the term ("eremitical") of real meaning and makes the life (both generally and specifically) incredible or unable to be believed or appreciated in the process. This will be true not only for the Church (meaning the whole People of God) and world who will recognize the fraud being perpetrated here at least enough to ridicule it or consider it unworthy of affirmation, but by the putative hermit as well --- who will know her "eremitical life" is a lie even (and perhaps especially) if she really is called to such a vocation.

(Thus it may be tempting for dioceses, in a misguided attempt to be pastoral, to profess anyone under Canon 603 who is chronically ill (or whatever the source of their isolation) and requests this, but it would be wrongheaded and destructive --- not only for the vocation to eremitical life itself, but for the individual professed in this way without an authentic vocation. Canon 603 is not a refuge for those without legitimate religious vocations or other access to public profession/consecration, or who are seeking to make isolation or simply being a loner legitimate or valid ways of living. Instead it is the way for the solitary hermit to assume the public rights and responsibilities of diocesan eremitical life; it is the way to profess one whose isolation and voicelessness has been redeemed and transformed by God into the solitary prophetic word of one dwelling consciously and responsibly in the heart of reality.)

Redeeming one's isolation, then, is a very different matter than merely validating (or trying to validate) one's isolation. Here the message of one's life is vastly different than it once was, for such a life attests to the power of God to bring meaning out of absurdity, life out of death, hope out of hopelessness, power and authority out of powerlessness and futility. Isolation is no longer that although superficially things may look similar. What replaces isolation is communion and community which is lived out as "inner" rather than merely external solitude, first of all with God and with oneself as one comes to accept one's whole self, and then with all others who are grounded in and linked to one through God. Illness (or whatever the situation that isolates one) may not change substantially but it is no longer the dominant reality in one's life. If one is in intractable and chronic pain, then the main message of one's life is what God does in spite of that --- and that is a joyful thing; it is evangelion or gospel in the truest sense. Will one struggle with illness and pain, in whatever forms they occur? Of course. But one does not struggle alone, nor is the struggle worthless to the broader Church and world. Still, it is not the struggle per se that is the first word the hermit articulates with her life, but the victory God has achieved in transforming isolation into the silence ,and so, into the song of solitude!

As always, I hope this helps but if it raises more questions or is unclear in some way, please get back to me. (I know, after today at least, that you don't need to be told that really, but the statement is for others as well!) All good wishes!

Again, Followup on the Silence of Solitude (#6)

[[Dear Sister, Thank you for your responses. I think I might have understood better after the first one, but I appreciate the examples in the third one from the monastery. Does eremitical silence and solitude differ in any other way from ordinary silence and solitude?]]

The one difference I haven't mentioned because I was focusing on the distinction between "silence AND solitude" and "the silence OF solitude" is that for most people ordinary silence and solitude are temporary, sometimes even rare occurrences. For the hermit they are defining elements of the very environment in which the hermit lives (THE defining element of eremitical life, I would argue, is the silence OF solitude). While all diocesan hermits must travel outside the hermitage to shop, go to Mass, make doctor's visits, run errands, and sometimes even work, the overall environment in which they live is primarily or mainly one of physical silence and solitude. The times outside the hermitage are definite exceptions.

For some individuals though, large measures of external silence and solitude constitute their normal environments. Among these are some members of the marginalized groups I have spoken of before: the chronically ill, the isolated elderly, etc. However, here is where the distinction between the term used in Canon 603 (the silence of solitude) and simply silence and solitude becomes very important. As I noted we may try to validate our isolation with Canon 603 (and for those of us who are chronically ill a legitimate vocation can begin in this way!), but at some point that must change into the silence OF solitude which is rooted in communion with God if we are really to be hermits. I spoke earlier of the difference between validating our isolation and the redemption of that isolation; in earlier posts I have also spoken about becoming a hermit in some essential sense before approaching a diocese for profession. The transition from external silence and solitude (the silence and solitude of absence) to the silence OF solitude (the silence/solitude of presence) is behind this transition or redemption.

So, yes, there are several differences (and some similarities) between the silence and solitude we ordinarily experience and those lived routinely by hermits. I would need to think about this a bit more to know whether there are more than I mentioned here and in previous posts, but yes, I left out the notion that for some silence and solitude are respites or temporary pauses in the usual environment whereas for the hermit they tend to define the environment in which all else happens.

Followup on the Silence of Solitude (#5)

[[Sister, so are you saying that eremitical silence and solitude are different than ordinary silence and solitude?]]

Yes, and that's a great way of putting the matter. I would add that eremitical silence and solitude are more vital, a more living and communal reality than mere external silence and solitude because they are linked to the silence of solitude. When we go on retreat, for instance, we may enjoy the physical silence of the place, and we may enjoy being free of ordinary cares, worries, family members and responsibilities, etc. But no, these are not the same as eremitical silence or solitude, and even less are they the same as "the silence of solitude" though they contribute to these things.

The difference, which I will try to describe in a moment, was brought home to me by this year's retreat at the Cistercian (Trappistine) Monastery of the Redwoods (just as another piece was brought home to me last Summer by an incident on retreat!). It is the difference between absence (the absence of sound, of others, of external distractions, etc) and presence. The monastery is in the boonies, a 45 minute drive from the main turn off which itself is miles from real urban centers. As the name suggests it is in the middle of redwood forests but also pasture land and farms. It is quiet and physical or external silence reigns. But there is another dimension here, and that is the silence of solitude. It is the living, loving silence of people living (mainly silently) in communion with God and with (or at least in support of) each other.

Thus, at meditation (silent or contemplative prayer), when 20 people are sitting silently for an hour*, something new comes to be, something larger and more vital than even the silence of the forest and grounds. It is a silence one can feel, a kind of awesome presence which is palpable, compelling, and which sings with the prayer and love of each person (and all of them together in God). Because this is the REAL and most profound silence of this monastery one finds that even when external noise occurs it needs not necessarily distract from this deeper silence of solitude. Of course, the silence of the forest, monastery, and guesthouse needs to be maintained or people may never be able to reach this other level of silence (in fact, this other reality), but external silence and aloneness is only a prerequisite to this "silence OF solitude".

Does this help further?

* Actually meditation included a period of sitting, one shorter period of walking, and another of sitting, but some sat the whole hour.

And even more on the Silence of Solitude (#4)

[[Dear Sister, are you saying then that external silence or "aloneness" is unnecessary to the silence of solitude? Does the silence of solitude depend on physical or external silence? Does it lead to it? I think you meant this but it was not clear.]]

Thanks. No, neither external silence or aloneness are unnecessary to the "silence of solitude" but neither of themselves (nor added together) do they equal this canonical element. The "silence of solitude" calls for these two realities. It needs them to a very large extent because communion with God and contemplative life requires them and will further call for their deepening and extension. However, just building in some external silence (or even nothing but silence) or external aloneness is not the same as the eremitical silence of solitude the Canon speaks of. These do not need to be functions of communion with God or with his creation. Instead they may, of themselves, be signs of a fundamental alienation and estrangement from God and all that he loves and delights in.

So yes, the silence OF solitude leads to physical or external silence and aloneness (just as it did in Jesus' life) but it will also lead to ministry in most cases. For the hermit though, I have spoken of always remaining open to the possibility that God is calling us to greater reclusion (or at least to periods of reclusion) and this is what I meant, namely, our relationship with God (characterized by or even as the silence of solitude) sometimes calls us to ever greater degrees of external or physical silence and/or solitude (as well as to an ever deepening silence of solitude). Alternately, when I have written about the contemplative (or even the eremitical) life spilling over into limited ministry I had in mind the silence of solitude leading naturally to some active ministry (as it ALSO did in Jesus' life).

Does this help?

More on The Silence of Solitude (#3)

[[Sister, what is the difference between "silence and solitude" and the "silence of solitude"? You don't say diocesan hermits are called to silence and solitude, but "the silence of solitude." Is there really a difference here or are you just splitting imaginary theological hairs and playing intellectual games?]]

Thanks for your question. There are two other posts on this topic, so please check the labels at the bottom of this post for those. Some of my answer here may repeat parts of what those include, though I will try not to.

Yes, there is a very great difference between "silence and solitude" and "the silence of solitude", I think. The main thing to notice is that "silence and solitude" treats these realities as separate and mainly physical (or external), and therefore as things which may be included in greater or lesser degrees in any life either together or apart from one another. Thus, someone wanting to be a hermit might think that the goal of his or her life is to exclude noise, and to be merely alone. S/he might go about entering into this life mainly by building in more and more time to be alone, and by excluding anything that makes noise. If noise creeps in s/he might think she has failed with regard to silence but not with regard to solitude, for instance. If people need to come see her/him or call with an emergency she may feel that she has failed in both silence and solitude. If she needs to go out of the hermitage she may refuse to talk to people or only speak about "spiritual topics" and feel that in this way she lessens any fault against either silence or solitude.

And so her life goes on: a little tinkering with silence here, a little fiddling with alone time there, a little addition of prayer or other "hermit things" here, a little allowance of time outside the "hermitage" (or "worldly things") there. When these two realities are treated as something separate, the temptation is to search for just the right combination or just the right "amount" which, when combined then makes one a hermit. In this way of thinking or approaching the life, a little less of either and one becomes a semi-eremite or no eremite at all! But this approach is wrong-headed. Even if one lived alone in complete silence this would not make one a hermit, nor would it mean one was achieving the goal of Canon 603 or that one was living the essential element "the silence of solitude" with fidelity or integrity. In fact, one might not be living it at all. Instead one might be a misanthrope merely seeking to validate her isolation and her anti-social bent and lack of capacity to love others. There is lots of silence and (physical) solitude in the misanthrope's life (or in death of any sort), for instance (or in that of the artist, writer, composer, etc --- just to demonstrate there are positive ways of living these things which are not eremitical), but this is not what the Canon is talking about. (By the way, one need not be a misanthrope to use Canon 603 in an attempt to validate one's isolation. Valid vocations may BEGIN this way for those who are chronically ill, etc, but for there to be an authentic call to eremitical life there must be not only validation but actual redemption of one's isolation. In this too the term "the silence of solitude" is important and different than just silence and solitariness.)

But compare this approach to that outlined by Fr Jean Beyer in his commentary on Canon 603: [[ "It [the silence of solitude] unites these values. . . referring not merely to the external [physical] silence of the desert but to a profound inner solitude found in communion with God, who is the fullness of life and of love. It implies a lifetime striving towards union with God, a state which causes the one who becomes silent in this divine solitude to be alone with God alone. Such silence of solitude requires other silences --- of place, of surroundings, of action --- all that furthers the solitude and distances one from anything which could disturb it, from all which does not enhance the solitary mode of life." (Beyer, The Law of Consecrated Life: Commentary on the Canons 573-606)

In this paragraph "the silence of solitude" is integrally linked to communion with God. Yes, this will entail some preliminary (or subsequent!) clearing of the decks so the one seeking God can do so with minimal distraction, that is, one will certainly begin (and follow up) by building in some external silence and alone time, but the essential element of the Canon goes much further than this. It actually refers to the silence of one's communion with God. The silence and solitude (a communal or dialogical term) which result from one's prayer and life with God, from one's fundamental "custody of the cell" is what Canon 603 is referring to when it speaks of "the silence of solitude." In this phrase then, one is not merely alone and physical solitude which is about being separated from others is not primarily in view (though it will be included). Instead solitude refers to a state of communion in which one is alone WITH God and in God. This solitude approaches what psychologists refer to in the term individuation, or what we might call holiness or the life of authentic humanity --- only lived with God alone. Readers familiar with Eastern Christian contemplative thought will recognize in this term the hesychia or quiet and stillness of hesychasm. Thus, while "the silence of solitude" is identified as a Carthusian term, Carthusians writing about solitude note that it is a synonym for hesychia and hesychasm.

The silence which stems from this involves (and calls for) external silence, but it is also more primarily about the absence of inner distractions, superfluities, the inner voices we carry within us that are part of that theater of inner life (sometimes referred to by the term "object relations") which indicate division from ourselves and thus deflect from (or summon us to) our authentic humanity. The "silence of solitude" is the full and singing silence of the whole person, made one in and by the Word of God. It is the song of the "pure in heart," and is both something the hermit practices daily and a goal she strives for.

One part of the "silence of solitude" I have written about before is the corresponding distancing that occurs on some levels from other people, activities, etc. Thus I suggested that Jesus lived the silence of solitude because of his communion with God, and that that caused SOME distancing from others and perhaps an inability to share with them on some levels. Note that I do not mean Jesus was estranged from them, but he WAS marginalized even while he was deeply united in other ways. Canon 603 describes a solitary life which is similarly marginalized, not from essential estrangement or alienation but because of communion with God which both separates and unites on deeper levels or in differing ways than is normal in society generally. Because of this "the silence of solitude" is a bittersweet reality in some ways. What is most profoundly true for the hermit often cannot be shared directly with others. (Though thank God for the good spiritual director, or friend whose prayer life and/or vowed commitments allows her to understand!!) The reason one lives physical silence and solitariness cannot really be easily explained, and even less so can the deeper reality of "the silence of solitude." The true hermit accepts this marginalization as part of her commitment to, and living out of, communion with God, just as she accepts her call to love others as part of it. For more on this bittersweet quality, please see the other posts!

I hope this helps. It seems to me the difference between the realities you asked about is profound and I hope I have clarified some of the distinctions and overlaps here. If not though, please let me know!

The Greatest Risk to the Eremitical Vocation?

[[Sister, what is the hardest thing for a new person becoming a hermit? You write about it as a risky vocation. What is the greatest risk do you think?]]

It seems to me that the hardest thing about becoming a hermit is making the transition from being a person who does things associated with being a hermit to actually being one in some essential sense. One approach to becoming a diocesan (or a lay) hermit seems to be that of adding in pious and devotional practices without changing one's general environment. In this approach silence and solitude, for instance, are treated as things one adds in to one's life rather than being embraced as the very environment in which one lives. But becoming a hermit is not simply about living more or less of this or that: more prayers, more silence, more time alone, less contact with family or friends, less (or no) TV, etc. It is about a life with God alone which humanizes one and makes of one's life a prophetic presence in a noisy world devoted to self, dissipation, and distraction. Nikos Kazantzakis once said that, "Solitude can be fatal for the soul that does not burn with a great passion." I think that the movement from doing the things a hermit does to being a true hermit --- and the danger of never making this transition --- is a piece of what is behind this quote.

The process of becoming a diocesan (or, for that matter, a lay) hermit involves a transition to being at home in an environment of the silence of solitude. It involves a transition from being a person who prays occasionally (or even often) to being a person who is prayer in some fundamental and conscious way. Because this transition is so all-encompassing, and because it cannot be engineered, the time frame for becoming a diocesan hermit is ordinarily lengthy and individualized. Negotiating this transition is one of the more difficult aspects of becoming a hermit, it seems to me --- particularly if one is not willing to let go of one's previous life, or, similarly, if one is trying to accommodate "hermiting" to a more normal parish or religious life. The call to eremitical life is different not simply in degree, but in kind; a candidate to diocesan eremitical life must understand and embrace this difference.

The greatest risk to eremitical life, in my estimation, is mediocrity because mediocrity is a form of inauthenticity. Because the life is so independent, because there is little direct oversight, it is easy to lose oneself in this or that distraction. No one but the hermit and God knows if the hermit lives her Rule or horarium. No one knows if she shows up for prayer or spends appropriate time in lectio or study. No one knows when legitimate recreation slides into more dangerous distraction and dissipation. And of course, even if she is dilligent in doing all the things she is obligated to in her Rule, she still may not be growing sufficiently in holiness, human maturity, and the capacity to love and serve others. This too can be a kind of mediocrity. Yes, she lives this life under the supervision of her Bishop and those he delegates to serve in this way. But in most ways these individuals cannot do other than take the hermit's word about the quality of the life she is living. (Directors and delegates can and do ask probing questions and challenge to ever-greater fidelity to God's call, but ultimately, they do not live with the hermit and cannot measure mediocrity. Only the hermit can do that.) Here Kazantzakis' quote also is helpful, for the hermit will be one with a great passion and that passion will not allow mediocrity.

This tremendous independence and inner directedness (development of a truly great passion) is also one of the reasons the period of discernment and formation for a diocesan hermit is often quite lengthy. Again,the person seeking to make and live this commitment needs to make the transition from "doing hermit things" to being a hermit in an essential way. They are persons who have come to terms with their own poverty and realized that communion with God is, for them, found only in silence and solitude. Human wholeness and the community necessary for that is for them a paradoxical reality realized in the silence OF solitude. For them the ability to love and serve others requires an unusual degree of silence and solitude, prayer, penance, personal work, etc, and they MUST be committed to that. That is, they must be embracing this vocation because they love, and are committed to loving more and more. Diocesan representatives, the person's spiritual director, et al, must come to assurance not only that all this is true for this person, but that the person is capable of living out this truth with self-discipline and integrity and that she has a track record of faithfulness to the Rule of Life which reflects the truth of her life with God.

By the way, there is no formula for what this faithfulness means in any given individual's life. Canon 603 defines the essential elements of the life but does not quantify these. It says this is a life of the silence of solitude, and that it is marked by assiduous prayer and penance, a living out of the evangelical counsels, and stricter separation from the world, all lived for the salvation of the world and according to the person's own Rule of Life. However, it does not indicate any single picture of what these things mean. Because of this one must find out what each of these terms will look like in her own call to eremitical life. Again, discovering this, building it into a life which genuinely loves and serves others, which leads one to genuine holiness, and which is also consistent with eremitical tradition takes time, discernment, and consistent and focused work.

The risk, of course, (and an ongoing, every day risk in fact) is that one will fail in some part of this challenge, whether that is by buying into a stereotype of eremitical (or contemplative) life which allows one to cease discerning how the life is to be lived lovingly and prophetically in this time and place, or whether it means convincing oneself that certain evasions and compromises are legitimate when they are not. Mediocrity can take many forms and wear many guises (some of them quite dramatic or extreme in normal terms) even once one has made the transition from doing hermit things to being a hermit in an essential sense. It has a number of roots as well: failure to love, disobedience, selfishness, various forms of fear or resistance, arrogance, complacency, etc. In any case, while it is important to deal with each of these roots, I think mediocrity itself is really the greatest overall risk that faces someone trying to live an eremitical life.

The Silence of Solitude (#2)

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, When you write about the silence of solitude it sounds pretty grim. Do you mean to give that impression? Also, where does the term come from? I also thought Canon 603 specified silence AND solitude and was surprised to read that you thought the silence of solitude was something different.]]

Dear poster,
I suppose that the two times I have written about "the silence of solitude" it has seemed a pretty negative reality, mainly because of the contexts. However, I carefully qualified the negativity in the last post (and may have done in the other) by referring to the richness of this reality. Anyway, let me try to be a little clearer because "the silence of solitude" embraces the gamut of experiences and realities involved in everything from profound unitive experiences with God to the physical isolation and challenges one faces as one comes to terms with one's own sinfulness without distraction, or even the desolation one may feel from the relative absence of others in one's life or from the felt absence or withdrawal of God. One really cannot point to a wider range of experience.

It seems to me that Jesus' own life was one which, despite the activity and contact with others, was consistently marked by the silence of solitude --- whether we are speaking of the times he was off alone praying, ministering in crowds, talking or disputing with Jewish officials, teaching his ordinarily obtuse disciples, standing before Pilate (a particularly poignant moment revealing the silence of solitude), or facing betrayal by his followers and "abandonment" by God in the passion. All of these moments and his whole life was lived for God alone and with a sense that God alone was enough. Similarly every moment was lived with a profound sense of God's presence and power within and without him. (The single exception was, I would suggest, the experience of abandonment on the cross.) Even while this united him with all of humanity it separated or marginalized him as well. Jesus' grounding in and relationship with God related him intimately with everyone God loved, and at the same time set him apart as a complete and unique individual --- in many ways incommunicable to them. To the degree he was embodied Word he, modelled "the (paradoxical reality we call) silence of solitude." (Another dimension of this I have to wonder about here is Jesus's ability to share with others. He gave of himself completely, and it is clear he had those who loved him especially and whom he loved as friends, but generally, I wonder how much sharing of his own deepest self he could do. That inability is a piece of the silence of solitude I think.)

The term, "the silence of solitude," so far as I know, is a Carthusian one, coined by Carthusian hermit monks to describe a reality which includes both silence and solitude and yet goes beyond both of them. (Sorry, despite having read a number of books by and about Carthusians, I cannot refer you to the text where this phrase occurs, nor can I explain what the author himself meant by it therefore with the following exception. Apparently "the silence of solitude" was meant to distinguish it from the physical silence of cenobitism, and was to be ensured through physical isolation.) However, Fr Jean Beyer, sj, a canonist, writes, "It unites these values. . . referring not merely to the external [physical] silence of the desert but to a profound inner solitude found in communion with God, who is the fullness of life and of love. It implies a lifetime striving towards union with God, a state which causes the one who becomes silent in this divine solitude to be alone with God alone. Such silence of solitude requires other silences --- of place, of surroundings, of action --- all that furthers the solitude and distances one from anything which could disturb it, from all which does not enhance the solitary mode of life." (Beyer, The Law of Consecrated Life: Commentary on the Canons 573-606)

Note that because solitude is defined in terms of communion with God both as goal and reality, Beyer affirms that other silences are required which support and flow from this communion. The other silences are usually what we are thinking of when we suggest the Canon is speaking of silence and solitude. Really though, Canon 603 spells out the goal and essence of eremitical life in this phrase, whereas silence and external or physical solitude are means to achieving this. Genuine solitude is always a communal reality because true individuality is always such a reality. We are constituted as human beings by our relatedness with God (and so with those he loves --- especially as we come to know them in him). We are not unrelated or isolated monads, but instead are "dialogical" at the very core of our being. Physical silence serves the realization of this nature. So does physical or external solitude. But they are not to be mistaken for it. For this reason among others I suggested in my earlier post (Prisoner Hermits) that the "silence of solitude" was a reality even when in the midst of a noisy crowd. This is somewhat different than Beyer describes, and it differs from the narrower Carthusian sense, but I think it is in line with these as well.

The heart of "the silence of solitude" is communion with God. Nothing grim about that! At the same time, while this communion is wonderful and sustaining (even when we don't experience ecstasy or some remarkable prayer experience), and while it unites us to those God loves in mysterious and real ways, it establishes us more fully as individuals and wraps our lives in silence at many levels. Consider how it fosters one's need for environments most people shun. Consider how it sets one's life apart from the normal rhythms, values, and activities of most lives. Consider how incommunicable it truly is, and how truly incommunicable it makes our authentic individuality --- our solitude. So, no "the silence of solitude" is not a grim reality; is a wonderfully, ineffably, positive experience, but it carries with it dimensions of suffering and marginalization as well.

I only just began really thinking about this element of Canon 603 in a conscious way this Summer so I doubt this is really clear yet.(Until then I spent more time thinking about silence AND solitude.) However if it raises questions for you, do get back to me. The questions help me think through what I often know on a more intuitive level. Thanks.