Diocesan Hermit: a Risky Commitment?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I have wondered before - and have read a lot of your material which relates to [the question of] just why you would choose to put yourself under obedience to a bishop - since being a lay hermit wouldn't require that. From my perspective it was a very radical choice at a time in modern church history when it seems particularly risky. Don't you find it so yourself? Do you have a Bishop you see eye to eye with?]]

Thanks for the comment and questions. I have written about this a lot in the past, as you are clearly aware, but given all the things that are happening in the Church and news in the past weeks, especially regarding women religious, women theologians (or theologians more generally) there is no doubt that questions regarding my own relationship to the institutional church, especially to my diocese and local Bishop are raised afresh or with more urgency than at other times. As I prepare for an annual meeting with my Bishop precisely at a time when I stand with the women of the LCWR or reflect on my own vocation as a theologian, the question surfaces in my own mind as well --- not so much as one prompted by doubt about the wisdom of my vocational commitment, but as one which I personally must answer afresh for myself.

Your related comments about lay hermits are also well taken and, as I have written before, one of the responses one sometimes gets from lay hermits regarding the question of seeking canonical standing is that canonical standing binds the hermit too closely to the institution and curtails the freedom typical of the eremitical life. One has only to recall the example of the desert Fathers and Mothers who moved to the desert to disassociate themselves from an institutional Church they felt had compromised itself because of its Constantinian ties to the world of power, politics, and pressure. It is a valid answer for some, even relatively many of those embracing eremitical life, but not for me.

I don't want to repeat everything I have said here before except to recall that solitary life is about relatedness, first of all to God and to the proclamation that God alone is sufficient for us, and then to all that (he) regards as precious --- God's people, God's world, God's Church, etc. It is a mistake to think of a hermit as someone who lives in a sort of isolated splendor or that our lives are marked (or marred!) by alienation of whatever sort. Hermits are hermits because they are loved and love in return. The very word solitude in the Christian eremitical tradition does not simply mean being alone, but rather being alone with God and for the sake of others. The silence of solitude embraced by the hermit is not the mere absence of sound; it is the silence which occurs when one exists with and in the love of another --- the silence of completion, the quies of shalom, the hesychasm resulting from being exhaustively known and wholly accepted and regarded as precious. It is the silence of two friends sitting quietly together in grateful presence each for the other and the God (and others) that made this friendship possible.

As a hermit I am not silent (or solitary) for instance, because woundedness and pain have rendered me mute and cut off from others, but because silence and solitude are the accompaniment and context for profound speech and articulateness. Silence is part of the music of being loved completely by God; it is a piece of allowing the separate notes of one's life to sound fully, but also to be connected to one another so that noise is transformed into a composition worthy of being heard and powerful and true enough to be inspiring to others. It is an empowered silence and solitude, the silence of solitude, which finds its source in God's love and reflects relatedness to God and others at its very core. Something similar could be said of all of the elements which comprise the life described in Canon 603. The eremitical life, especially in its freedom, is one of relatedness and love in all of its dimensions.

For me, because I want to live this fully and witness to it with my life, this has meant responding to an ecclesial vocation, a call specifically and concretely mediated to me by the Church and for which I am therefore answerable in specific and concrete ways. We have all done something similar in agreeing to baptism --- though I wonder sometimes if the average person in the pew understands well enough that gifts oblige us to act out of our giftedness, and that a gift which recreates us completely requires the corresponding gift of our whole selves. Eremitical life, especially solitary eremitical life, is simply too difficult, too rare, too fragile and too threatened by the world around it as well as by dimensions of the hermit's own inner world to live without concrete limits, mediating structures, formal relationships, concrete expectations, and avenues for sharing. At the same time it is a rich and fruitful life because of its close and dedicated relationship with God; Hermits stand at the heart of the Church and say something about this rich identity but they therefore do not do so in some merely abstract way. Because of this too they require concrete limits, mediating structures, formal relationships, concrete expectations on the part of their brothers and sisters, and avenues for sharing.

I think most solitary hermits (lay or consecrated) who embrace such a life because they feel God has called them to do so belong to a parish community which supports them in their life. (Religious hermits live as part of a community which functions similarly.) Most have spiritual directors and confessors who assist them and help them be accountable for their life. For me, however, it was not simply that I felt called to live as a hermit; it was that I felt called to represent a specific vocational tradition in the church --- a tradition which I felt was very important and even redemptive especially with regard to certain segments of the population --- and which therefore could represent not only continuity with the desert Fathers/Mothers and the whole history of eremitical life, but which could suggest new instances and "applications" of it. To do this meant not only the requisite experience, theological education, and sensibilities but, again, an ecclesial vocation which was supervised, inspired, and rendered accountable by the Church in some formal and concrete way.

Regarding my vow of obedience. It is not primarily to my Bishop nor, by extension, to my delegate, but to God. Of course, this does not mean that I do not owe either my Bishop or others he delegates my obedience, but merely that they are a part --- a significant one, but a part nonetheless -- of my discerning how God is speaking to me and what he is calling for from me. It is true that because I don't belong to a congregation and, except for my delegate who can and would speak for me, I have no legitimate superior between myself and the Bishop it can sometimes seem a bit "risky." What if we disagree on something central to my life, for instance? What happens then?

My own sense of obedience means attentive listening first of all and honest and open discussion as needed to assist my discernment. I listen carefully to my Bishop, and (fortunately for me) my experience is that he listens carefully to me. He asks good questions, gives me time to answer completely, allows me to ask him questions, and answers himself. As you will have read, we meet only annually (more frequently if I need something) and in the meantime I meet with my delegate. Should something happen which has either myself or my Bishop concerned and needing to talk about it, or if he should himself require more information or assistance, my delegate is there to serve in that way as well.

No, my Bishop and I probably don't "see eye to eye" on a few things (I am not speaking of doctrinal matters here nor of our vision of the eremitical life), but we are also bound in a canonical relationship because of two distinct but related ecclesial vocations which the Church has recognized and affirmed, as well as because of the related commitments which we have made and she has accepted. We both love Christ and Christ's Church and care that the eremitical life is lived with integrity and faithfulness. At the risk of sounding self-serving, I trust and desire to trust that with the help of the Holy Spirit and for these overarching reasons we will both continue to act attentively and responsibly, as well as with charity and respect for one another in this common project. I have hope then that what risk there is is worth it --- particularly for this vocation and for the Church as a whole. I suspect that in this I am not much different from anyone with public vows.

The Silence of Jesus vs Eremitical "silence of solitude"

Throughout this last week of Lent and into the Triduum we will be confronted increasingly by Jesus' silence, indeed his muteness in the face of the world of powers and principalities arrayed against him. Increasingly the Word of God incarnate is rendered mute. In Mark's passion narrative this awful silence is rent only by Jesus' cry of abandonment --- that moment when Jesus' passion becomes even deeper than it had been and he suffers the loss of that relationship which is most foundational and intimate to him plunging him into an absolute hopelessness and helplessness. It is at this point, I think, that John's Jesus cries out, "I thirst!" And his thirst goes unslaked.

Because I have been writing and thinking about "the silence of solitude" in the past several months the contrast with Jesus' increasing muteness during his passion and what canon 603 refers to as "the silence of solitude" is more striking to me than it has ever been before. The hermit's silence is not one of powerlessness --- though indeed, in terms of the world's categories, a hermit is marginalized and relatively powerless --- nor is it one of absolute aloneness or abandonment. Instead it is the silence of covenant and friendship, of rest and essential peace in Christ. It is, as I have written many times now, a silence which sings of abundant life, a dialogical reality where God's love is the counterpart of human poverty and muteness, and the result is a sacramental silence which speaks powerfully and prophetically of fullness and completion.

But in the next three days especially we meet a vastly different kind of silence. It is the horrifying silence we all deeply fear, the silence we feel compelled with desperation to fill with even empty sound and trivial speech so terrified are we of being alone in the sense that Jesus was left alone; it is the silence which alternates with the music of love and affirmation and which presses us to seek companionship and reassurances we can never provide for ourselves alone. In the next three days Jesus, the Word incarnate, becomes increasingly subject to this silence. He enters increasingly into a loneliness which excludes all communication, all meaning, and all capacity for transcendence. His silence is the silence of one who has absolutely no one who can elicit or empower speech, no one who can summon him beyond himself --- one who is without anyone who can elicit or empower love, and is without the relatedness which is the ground and source of all meaning. It is the abyss of isolation which renders all speech -- including the speech or language event one is and is called to be -- absurd and impossible.

As I wrote in the piece on Jesus' descent into hell, hell is an abyss of ultimate and unremitting isolation, loneliness, emptiness, lovelessness, and inhumanity. It is precisely that impenetrable "place" or "space" within and outside us where speech, language, or communion becomes impossible and where, as Benedict XVI writes, no word of another can reach and no love can advance. It is this hell, this spiritual or personal black hole, into which Jesus is increasingly drawn in these last days of Lent, and during the Triduum especially. Despite superficial similarities, the silence, or better, the muteness associated with this state is precisely antithetical to the "silence of solitude" of the hermit; it is the silence against which one can see most clearly how rich and full the silence of eremitical or solitary life truly is. The hell of muteness crushes; the silence of solitude empowers song. These two different realities are what makes it especially important to discern the difference between those whose silence is that of isolation and those who are truly called to the silence of solitude as hermits. The first witnesses to hell and the sovereignty of death which blots out Life and Speech, the second is the background of heaven and the sovereignty of God who is Life, Love, and creative Word.

How does the Silence of Solitude involve God?

[[Hi Sister Laurel,

I am glad to see you posting. I missed your posts. Probably you have said this already, but when I read that the silence of solitude is the charism of diocesan eremitical life I don't see God in it. Can you explain this to me?]]

Sure, let me try and let me be really brief. Ordinarily solitude is thought of as being alone, being physically alone, and little more. That is one legitimate meaning of the term and it applies to hermits, but it also stops short of being the solitude to which a hermit is called. One of the reasons I refer often to eremitical solitude is because it is not a matter of just being physically alone, but rather being alone with and in God. This means as well that one is profoundly related to all else that is related to God, and in fact, that one lives her life for them as well. But this kind of solitude is not automatic. It requires a continuing practice of prayer, silence, physical solitude, kenosis (self-emptying), and commitment to that foundational relationship with love-in-act which makes us each human. It also implies commitments to community (for instance to the parish community which is one's primary community, or to the handful of good friends with whom one really shares her daily life) because it is a reality stemming from and leading to love. At bottom, eremitical solitude is communal or "dialogical" because it always means communion or dialogue with God who is the source, ground, and very paradigm of solitude.

Similarly, silence is ordinarily thought to be the absence of sound --- and today, merely a relative absence of noise since our culture's way of covering or distracting us from noise is to add more sound to the mix! But silence is multidimensional and more than just the absence of sound. If you have ever sat in church next to someone who is making no sound but is jiggling their legs, you know this. If you have ever walked into a quiet room of people waiting for you to speak and felt terrified or anxious, you know it. If you have ever been lying in the dark before sleep and felt driven to the kitchen by a desire for chocolate, compelled by thoughts which are obsessive, or struck with a terrible feeling of emptiness or failure, you know that silence is not merely the absence of sound. Instead it has to do with being at peace, with being comfortable with who one is in God, with not having to prove oneself and with letting what comes come in its own time. (I have to remind everyone including myself that this "silence of solitude" is a goal of eremitical life and its realization only comes over time, even when it is present in degrees throughout that life.)

So, the silence of solitude is the silence, and better, the quies which results from being alone in and with God. It refers to the life of wholeness and security of one who knows how profoundly loved she is and who is able to live within and from that love for the sake of others. It involves physical silence, of course, but it is much more and richer than that. What is at its root is God and one's relationship with God and all those whom God holds as precious. It does not exist otherwise.

I hope this helps.

Jesus Raises me up to service in and for "the silence of solitude"

I was struck differently today by the healing of Peter's Mother-in-Law than I have been in the past. In the past I was probably a little put out that Peter's MIL was healed only to immediately be raised up to serve. But today the story was a terrific joy to me for I understand the two movements of this Mother in Law's story differently than I once might have. After all, the ability to serve one's God, one's church, other people in the community, and one's family is a joy --- especially after a time of not being able to do so due to illness. There is no doubt that for one who has suffered the oppression of illness, whether chronic or acute and knows the apparent inability to be the person they have been gifted to be because of it that the simple image of Jesus taking Peter's MIL by the hand, raising her up to a new life where she is free to give back, to share, to participate in communal life again is a powerful symbol.

In the past two months I have been struggling to write (actually writing is always a struggle for me!). Not only do I have a book I have been working on slowly for some time now, but I have a couple of articles which I need to get published due to some urgency. These articles focus on the "silence of solitude" as the interpretive key to canon 603 --- and that means it is the key to the discernment of a diocesan eremitical vocation, to living the life well in dialogue with the modern world and the desert and hesychastic traditions, as well for Chancery personnel at every level who assist in the discernment process, and supervise those living the vocation in their dioceses. These people need to understand the difference between pious lone individuals and hermits; they also need something which anchors canon 603 in the desert and hesychastic traditions, and can signal when it is appropriate to expect a hermit candidate to be able to write a livable Rule of life --- as well as what to look for in such a Rule which signals an authentic vocation. The silence of solitude is the single element of the canon which serves in these ways. Finally, and most importantly, I think, it is the interpretive Key to the canon because it is the charism or gift which this vocation is to church and world and as such, serves as the depth dimension of the other elements in the canon which establishes them as essentially eremitical --- including the often-neglected central and non-negotiable element: "for the praise of God and the salvation of the world."

While only some of this is truly new to me the project is important to me because I came to it through my own long struggle with chronic illness which involved my move from attempts to validate my isolation to the actual redemption of that and its transfiguration into genuine solitude. It came to me through an experience of solitude which allowed me to understand the peace, the hesychia or quies which it involves when my own life was transformed from a scream of anguish into a song of silent joy. It came to me through a prayer experience in which celibacy was transformed from a negative experience (I would never be a mother, never be a wife, etc) into a form of love where I was completed as a woman by Christ's own love for me. It was that same experience in which solitude was transformed from a synonym for separation and apartness to a symbol of belonging at the heart of reality in dialogue with God. When I reflected on all of those who were isolated in our world and anguished that their lives were meaningless, it was genuine solitude in and with God that was the word of hope I concluded they needed to hear. Moreover, it came to me as I examined the occasional instances of the misapplication and failure to adequately esteem the gift/charism of canon 603 by a few Bishops and others over the past 28 years which trivialized the vocation and allowed professions which made it incredible. All of these events and others, especially perpetual profession as a diocesan hermit more than 4 years ago now and all that has involved, led me to understand first hand what canon 603 calls, "the silence of solitude."

At Christmas time when we were hearing all the stories of women in the OT and NT who had come from barrenness to fruitfulness, sometimes through the birth of a child, sometimes through a word only they could speak, I had reason to identify with those women because I looked at years of a life marked and marred by chronic illness which were relatively barren and I had come to a place where I understood this dimension of canon 603 life clearly. I therefore also had been given a word of grace to speak from out of my own relative barrenness, and more, from out of its redemption when indeed Jesus extended a hand to me and lifted me up to a wholeness and to the word which made sense out of my entire life. That word is, "the silence of solitude." This word points to that place in each of us where human brokenness and Divine holiness and healing come together and we become truly whole and still. It is the state of union which stands irrevocably at the root of our being and which we are called to allow to pervade every moment and mood of our lives. For hermits, it is the loving reality they wish above all to allow their lives to witness to.

We are blessed when our lives comes together in a way which allows them to be summed up in such a simple but rich symbol. We are even more blessed when that symbol can serve to lift up others and transform their lives as well. So, while the writing has been difficult despite all I have blogged about this topic in the past several years, I recognize that the term "the silence of solitude" reflects the hand Jesus reached out to me to lift me up and the spirit with which he healed me precisely so that I could serve my church and world as a whole and contemplative individual --- indeed, as an authentic hermit. After all, it is so very painful not to be able to give back, not to be able to share what is deepest in oneself, and certainly, not to have a unique word of your own to speak to those in similar situations.

So, yes, I heard today's Gospel rather differently than I have in the past and I am grateful for Jesus' tenderness in "lifting me up" to new and incredibly meaningful life. But I am also grateful to Peter's MIL who reminds us all of the joy of service which flows from being lifted up in such a way. After all, as we also are reminded, "My word shall not return to me void!" My own life is one of learning to trust that promise --- just as the pre-Christmas stories and today's Gospel also invite us all to.

Living Alone vs Eremitical Solitude

[[Dear Sister,
you said something interesting in your post from December 7th. You distinguished an eremitical life of the silence of solitude from that of people living a merely pious life alone. To be honest I thought that a hermit life WAS the pious life of someone living alone. Can you explain what you mean to me?]]

Yes, it is a really important distinction and one that is rarely sufficiently understood whether by aspirants and some candidates for canon 603 profession, by chanceries who are responsible for the mutual discernment and profession of these candidates, or by the usual person on the street. Your own description, [[ a pious life of someone living alone]] is not quite the same as what I said, [[ some... mistake living a relatively pious life alone for an eremitical life of the silence of solitude. . ]]. Lots of people live alone; lots of these are relatively pious, and some are downright holy --- holier than many hermits. Very, very few of these are hermits in the sense canon 603 defines. I am reminded of a friend (a very funny and generous friend) in my parish who sometimes jokes to people she introduces me to that there is nothing really different from her life and mine --- though she thinks she owns more shoes than I do! (In that I think she is right!) She is a faithful Catholic, spends her life in direct service of the church and parish, and she lives alone; she sees me as doing the same. I suspect there are many people who think something similar and believe canon 603 is meant to profess more than usually religious people who simply live alone.

But these opinions, despite elements of truth, are generally mistaken. While it is certainly necessary to have a regular spiritual praxis and to live alone in relative silence, there is something more involved. It is summarized in canon 603 with the term, "the silence of solitude." One of the things I have noted about this phrase is that it refers not just to the physical environment of the eremitical life, but to its goal, and gift quality or charism as well. The silence of solitude is an immensely rich symbol, then, and hard to define precisely; it refers first of all to God's own life, for God is the abyss of this kind of silence and solitude. It refers then to a continuing dialogue with God usually carried out in and constituting one's own heart, but also in the prayer and other activities undertaken in the hermitage which are expressions and explicitations of this inner dialogue.

It refers to the communion which comes to be between two freedoms (cf Wencel, Cornelius, Er Cam, The Eremitic Life), the freedom which is God and the freedom which is the hermit, a communion which we are each made for but often forget, ignore, or dismiss for any number of reasons. Finally it also refers to the redemption of isolation, alienation, and emptiness, the healing of sin and the effects of sin. It requires external silence and physical aloneness but is much much more than this. The hermit's life is devoted to "the silence of solitude"; it is lived out within it, in light of it, and for it because this "silence of solitude" is something the world is made and hungers for. It is, insofar as it involves a heart-deep dialogue and communion, something both God and the hermit herself yearn for. Living alone is one thing; living alone with and for God and for all that is precious to God is very different indeed.

Although canon 603 does not explicitly preference this element over assiduous prayer and penance and the other non-negotiable elements of eremitical life, I think the hermit must --- though only in a way which allows the other elements to inform and qualify it. Truly, none of the elements of the canon and the life (a vowed life of stricter separation from the world, assiduous prayer and penance, the silence of solitude, lived for the praise of God and the salvation of the world) can be separated off from the others. As interrelated they form a complex and dynamic whole which constitutes eremitical life as something far more than just living alone --- even in physical silence or separation. Still, "the silence of solitude" is the truly distinguishing or definitive element of the canon, I think; it represents the depth dimension or inner heart and purpose of the other elements in the canon.

Dioceses and chancery officials and personnel must also preference this element in this way, I think; it is critical to discerning what kind of vocation one has before one. When I have written in the past that a candidate for profession under canon 603 must have become a hermit in some essential sense before a diocese can consider her seriously for even temporary profession this is what I was referring to: she must know the silence of solitude (in the above senses) personally, existentially, and she must have made at least some of the choices and sacrifices necessary to make this the defining reality and goal of her life while demonstrating a faithfulness and commitment to go wherever this gift of God takes her.

Follow-up on Part-time Eremitical Life (Yet Again!)

[[Sister, I am a lay person and live in solitude two days a week; I consider myself a hermit. I read where you would not. I also see where you have argued against extending the term "hermit" to part-time hermits. Is your own solitude really so different than mine? Is it really so much better? Like an earlier reader, I am offended you would be stuck in outdated definitions and not be open to people opening up this category of life to people like me. I am also in disagreement that a vocation to solitude would take as much time to discern as you seem to believe it does. . . . Get over yourself!]]

Thanks for your questions and objections. To be frank, I don't think I can set forth any more clearly why I believe what I believe than I have already done --- and done in posts which it seems you have read yourself. My own solitude is "better" mainly in the sense that it may speak more clearly to those who have no choice regarding their circumstances, that is, those who find themselves isolated and alienated because of life circumstances they cannot change. I think that this is the only way I might use the term "better" in comparing the solitude I am vowed to live with your own. Otherwise, yes, it is different, and I think it is different in significant (very meaningful) ways.

The Place of Eremitical Solitude in Confronting oneself and in Self-Emptying

Besides being able to speak more effectively to those whose physical solitude is not chosen or needs redemption another piece of this difference is the fact that eremitical solitude is one which ensures that one discovers and confronts one's own essential poverty when left to oneself. Over time in silence and solitude one faces oneself in a multitude of inescapable ways; with prayer and inner work (which mediate the grace of God), one comes to exist more truthfully and transparently. God is central to this whole process because it is in extended silence and solitude that one comes to know God's love. It is this love which allows one to participate in the kenosis or self-emptying accomplished in the desert as well as in the process of perceiving and embracing the authentic covenantal identity God calls one to. In the desert, solitude is not a distraction from one's usual environment. Neither does it allow for much distraction, for distraction in the desert can be deadly. I believe eremitical solitude is the solitude of the desert where I believe yours is not. (Please see the articles on the difference between an experience of the desert and a desert experience.) Further, because the heart of eremitical solitude is union with God, the silence of solitude reflects both the environment and goal of the hermit's life where yours, it seems to me, represents either a respite from these or something which MAY contribute to them some but without being them.

The Total Demand of Eremitical Solitude

In reflecting on this notion of "part-time hermits" or of folks' inability to see the difference between a life of solitude and occasional periods of physical solitude I am reminded of a couple of passages from a Carthusian monk's notes for a conference given to new postulants and novices. Dom Joseph wrote: Many "try" solitude and come away in raptures. But they have never really experienced its total demand on human nature; whilst they were in cell, they knew that at the weekend they would be back home at the sea-side. But solitude is far from romantic.

After thinking of the applicants who had left, often during their first night in cell, Dom Joseph continued: Before entering, the postulant dreamed of closing his door upon himself and calling to Jesus the Beloved, but he did not dream that it would be a desperate cry for help. That is, the only prayer he now knows. It is just, "Jesus mercy, Jesus help" all day long. All his pretensions, all his confidence in self, all his assurance that he was strong enough for solitude, have gone long ago. MacGuire, Nancy, An Infinity of Little Hours (p 74)

It is the notion of total demand on one's human nature and the way one is cast upon God in complete dependence which defines the seriousness of a life commitment to "the silence of solitude." It also explains in part the reason that discernment can only occur over time frames which are ordinarily longer than those required by other vocations to consecrated life. When a hermit is canonically professed, for instance, the Bishop asks a series of questions regarding her readiness to make the necessary commitments in preparation for accepting the hermit's vows. He asks publicly if she is resolved to "give (her)self to God alone, in solitude and silence, in persevering prayer and willing penance, in humble labor and holiness of life". To be honest, I don't see how a person can answer such questions in an informed or affirmative way without an existential background in their meaning. This raises several points pertinent to your comments: 1) the Church understands the eremitical vocation as a serious and full-time proposition, 2) one must know that eremitical solitude is a LIFE call, not a transitional or therapeutic period leading to something else --- significant as these may be, and 3) the ability to say yes to such questions, to make a life commitment to them and to God in this way, requires one experience them over a significant period of time prior to such a commitment.

In other words, one needs to know the experience that Dom Joseph describes in his conference notes first hand, and I honestly don't think that spending two days a week in solitude allows for this. There is simply something different in an experience of solitude where one's time there is not going to end in a day or two, a month or two (or even in a year or two!), where the wrestling one does with one's own incapacity is not something one has the resources to end or resolve of oneself, where distractions are, in the main, something one is obligated by choice and by vow to avoid while one faces full on the things which cause us all to turn to distractions in the first place. There is a vast difference between solitude as respite and solitude as a committed way of intense encounter and life. We all know how different a difficult experience is when one can see a light at the end of the tunnel from an experience where there is no light, no real end in sight.

Tedium, Boredom, and Doing Battle with Personal Demons

Now, obviously I don't experience solitude as generally miserable or as bleak as all that (at least I hope it is obvious from this blog!), but rather as amazingly compelling and humanizing in its communion. It is ordinarily a source of joy in God. However, neither do I want to sugar coat the nature or difficulties of eremitical solitude. Even when one is sure that solitude herself has opened the door to the hermit and that the silence of solitude represents a life vocation, this does not mean that one's experience in cell is unending bliss. Prayer may be a joy, but it is also demanding, intense, and challenging in ways love and any genuine commitment to another is always challenging.

Beyond this, the tedium of one's day to day schedule (horarium) in cell means that boredom can be a real problem as can fidelity be in such instances. Stability and one's commitment to it demands that one live through the difficulties, not avoid them with this distraction or that, this shift in place, activity, focus, or that. Despite common misunderstandings of solitary life in a hermitage, it is not an extended vacation, nor a time to simply kick back and do what one likes. It is often less about peace and quiet than it is about doing battle with personal demons. One experiences peace and is able to rest in Christ, but entrusting oneself to Him is also demanding and something which one must grow in one's ability to do. Eremitical solitude, as I have said several times now, is a vocation and a way of life which, when lived well, is a gift to Church and World. Lived badly it is more apt to be an instance of our culture's (or sin's) exaggerated selfishness and individualism.

The Bottom line Questions

My bottom line questions to you (or to myself, for that matter) are, "Is there a way you can say definitely and concretely that your own solitude is a gift to Church and world? Is it consistent with the tradition of eremitical solitude in either Western or Eastern Churches before and even while it varies in some way? Does it speak in some prophetic way to any particular segment of the population?" And finally, "is it something worthy of giving your very life for --- not just abstractly, but in terms of every minute, and hour, and day, and month, and year for the rest of your life?" My own answer to these questions is yes --- even when I live that answer badly at this point or that. It is this affirmative answer and all it implies that allows me not simply to succeed in living this solitude, but to renew my efforts when I have failed to live it well. I suspect this too is a very big difference between the solitude you describe and the solitude I call eremitical.

The Silence of Solitude as Essentially Missionary

[[Hi Sister, it seems strange to me to speak of hermits participating in the mission of God to the world. It seems to me that missionary work is active, and though I am sure prayer and union with God is helpful, I can't see where union with God is a form of mission. Perhaps that explains why sometimes I read about hermits who seem completely wrapped up in some sort of union with God and feel no need to be part of the church or her "temporal" affairs.]]

I suspect you are not alone in this. Remember the book I recommended recently on Secularity by Ronald Rolheiser? One of the major underlying elements in this book is that God is missionary and the Church participates in this. Vatican II's Ad Gentes affirms that all mission begins with the Holy Trinity with the sending of Word and Holy Spirit into the World. Mary Maher, SSND, outlines this very well: [[In the early Church, as the theology of the Trinity was developed, and already we see roots of this in the Gospel of John, mission was understood as being derived from the very nature of God. In classical trinitarian language, mission is understood most fundamentally in this way: God the Father sends the Son; the Father and Son send the Spirit; the Father, Son, and Spirit send the Church. Missionary initiative comes not primarily from the command of Jesus to his disciples to go out to the whole world and preach the Gospel. Rather, missionary activity comes even more basically from the very nature of God, a triune communion of love. Mission, therefore, is not primarily an activity of the Church; it is primarily an attribute of God. God is a missionary God.]] (Maher, Mary, "Called and Sent: Reflections on a Theology of Apostolic Religious Life Today" (Seminar: Union of International Superiors General)

Hermits in particular need to be aware of this. As we also know, there is a tendency to see eremitical solitude and its goal of union with God as essentially selfish or all about self and one's own salvation. (Some would-be hermits approach it this way too --- to the detriment and distortion of the vocation!) Similarly, at the opposite end of the spectrum there is a tendency to see the ways in which contemplative union spills over into various forms of limited apostolate as distractions from and something which is not intrinsic to authentic union or contemplative life. While serious discernment is required in determining how and when such spillover is allowed to occur, it becomes easier to understand how "the silence of solitude," which is characteristic of union with God, is the heart of genuine mission resulting in such "spillover" when we understand that the very nature of God is missionary. It also helps us to understand the importance of "the silence of solitude" itself as a leaven empowering mission, and as a gift which can transform the lives of those who feel they have no mission in the Church because they are ordinarily the ones being ministered to (the chronically ill, bereaved, prisoners, frail and isolated elderly, etc).

The Silence of Solitude as Charism of Canon 603 hermits

[[Sister, are you saying that "the silence of solitude" is the charism of diocesan eremitical life? Why not one of the other central elements? Also, I don't quite see how understanding that this is the charism can prevent abuses where the other central elements are treated as negotiable. I am sure you have explained this well, but could you explain a little more?]]

Yes, sorry if I was unclear. I am saying that "the silence of solitude is the charism, or the defining characteristic and specific gift of the Holy Spirit given to the Church and World through diocesan eremitical life." "The silence of solitude" is not merely the external silence of someone living alone --- though it is that too. The "silence of solitude" is what happens when a person who prays assiduously (etc) is brought to union with God. It includes the reconciliation, healing, individuation, and human wholeness which is part of this, eventuating in the ability to relate to others compassionately and with the love of Christ. In a sense then, "the silence of solitude" is both means and goal of the eremitical life, and it stands in marked contrast to the world in which we all live. Our unstable, noisy, overly mobile, self-centered or overly individualistic consumerist world is marked by estrangement and alienation. People hunger for and seek relatedness and meaning in many many ways, but too often these ways are more distractions and exercises in superficiality than means to actual communion and healing.

One group of people in particular symbolize the failure of our world in this regard, and who are more systematically victimized by it; these are those whose alienation and isolation is more pronounced or clear because of chronic illness, bereavement, old age, imprisonment, etc. For these persons especially, but for all the world caught up in noise, busyness, distraction, and the values of something other than the Kingdom of God, the hermit living a prayerful life in and out of "the silence of solitude" says that even the worst isolation and alienation can be healed and lead to communion with God. For this reason I suggest that "the silence of solitude" is not only means and goal of the eremitical life, but that this is the gift hermits (and especially solitary or diocesan hermits) bring to Church and world.

The other central elements of the canon seem to me to function to support and nurture this specific gift or charism. Other vocations are also assiduously prayerful and penitential; others are marked by degrees of separation from the world; others certainly are also publicly vowed and consecrated, are lived according to a Rule (or constitutions) under the supervision of legitimate superiors, but "the silence of solitude" is not the primary gift they bring to the Church and world. Cloistered vocations may themselves be an instance of the silence of solitude to some significant degree, but it seems to me that the diocesan hermit is called to live out this reality differently and in a way which speaks to every isolated and alienated individual in our world with a starker clarity. Further, the fact that she lives and grows in this vocation outside of community and embedded within (and dependent upon) her parish, neighborhood, and diocese argues that "the silence of solitude" is possible for anyone finding themselves in a similar place. All of this makes the diocesan hermit's life a very great gift in a needy world --- but not if the vocation is lived badly, on a part time basis, or in ways which treat the other essential elements as dispensable or unendingly elastic.

Once this charism is understood by every hermit, candidate, Bishop, and chancery official, the elements which support and lead to "the silence of solitude" will be understood and respected as well, I believe. They will be seen as critical to the gift the hermit brings to the church and world --- not simply as elements which can be added (or neglected) in varying amounts: a little bit of silence on the weekends or in the evenings, a dash of contemplative prayer on Saturdays or perhaps on Wednesdays as well, and not just as things to be done, but as characteristics of a particular embodiment of personhood lived in union with God. In particular diocesan eremitical life will not be seen as a part-time "vocation" nor will hermiting itself be seen as synonymous with simply living alone (even if one is pious) or as a lone ministerial religious. After all, the people to whom diocesan eremitical life is especially supposed to be a sign of possibility and hope are not chronically ill, impoverished, bereaved, imprisoned or otherwise isolated and alienated, unable to compete, work, etc, merely on a part time basis. They cannot join religious communities and few will be able seek profession in the Church as a diocesan hermit. Yet, they too are called in some way to an essential wholeness and to union with God (that is, to "the silence of solitude") precisely in their physical solitude.

This is why I argue that candidates for profession under Canon 603 thus themselves will have made the transition from doing "hermit things" (whatever this actually means!) at some point before profession is even considered and will be living and living towards the goal of "the silence of solitude" every day of their lives. Further they will do so because they know that otherwise their life is not the gift it could and is meant to be for those who have no other option or hope. Similarly it is why I argue that Bishops and chanceries must first understand and appreciate the charism of diocesan eremitism before discerning vocations to Canon 603 profession.

Every single vocation in the Church, and the Church herself participates in God's mission to reconcile the world to himself. Hermits certainly do the same. Eremitical life is about proclaiming God's grace to transform and heal human poverty and alienation and to redeem the isolation and estrangement which is so prevalent in our world. The silence of solitude (the wholeness and quies or shalom of union with God) is the eremitical charism which says that divine grace and human poverty together result in precisely the kind of authentic humanity our world needs so desperately.

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 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. 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 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 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?

see also: Notes from Stillsong Hermitage: On the Reservation of Eucharist by Hermits

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 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 than the more egocentric motives. What I was seeking to contextualize was 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 an 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 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 one's 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 now is 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 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.