Feast of Maximillian Kolbe (Reprise)

Today is the feast day of Maximillian Kolbe who died on this day in Auschwitz after two months there, and two weeks in the bunker of death-by-starvation. Kolbe had offered to take the place of a prisoner selected for starvation in reprisal when another prisoner was found missing and thought to have escaped. The Kommandant, taken aback by Kolbe's dignity, and perhaps by the unprecedented humanity being shown, stepped back and then granted the request. Father Maximillian sustained his fellow prisoners and assisted them in their dying. He was one of four remaining prisoners who were murdered in Block 13 (see illustration below) by an injection of Carbolic Acid when the Nazi's deemed their death by starvation was taking too long. When the bunker was visited by a secretary-interpreter immediately after the injections, he found the three other prisoners lying on the ground, begrimed and showing the ravages of the suffering they had undergone. Maximillian Kolbe sat against the wall, his face serene and radiant. Unlike the others he was clean and bright.

The stories told about Maximillian Kolbe's presence and influence in Aushwitz all stress a couple of things: first, there was his great love of God, Mary the Imaculata, and his fellow man; secondly, it focused on the tremendous humanity he lived out and modelled in the midst of a hell designed in every detail to dehumanize and degrade. These two things are intimately interrelated of course, and they give us a picture of authentic holiness which, extraordinary as it might have seemed in Auschwitz, is nothing less and nothing more than the vocation we are each called to in Christ. Together, these two dimensions of true holiness/authentic humanity result in "a life lived for others," as a gift to them in many ways -- self-sacrifice, generosity, kindness, courage, fidelity, etc. In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell.

It is easy to forget this fundamental vocation, or at least underestimate its value and challenge. We sometimes think our humanity is a given, an accomplished fact rather than a task and call to be achieved via attentive responsiveness to God. We also may think that it is possible to be truly human in solitary splendor. But our humanity is our essential vocation and it is something we only achieve in relation to God, his call, his mercy and love, his companionship --- and his people! (And this is as true for hermits and recluses as it is true for anyone else.) Likewise, we may think of vocation as a call to religious life, priesthood, marriage, singleness, eremitism, etc, but always, these are "merely" the paths towards achieving our foundational vocation to authentic humanity. Of course, it is not that we do not need excellent priests, religious, husbands and wives, parents, and so forth, but what is more true is that we need excellent human beings --- people who take the call and challenge to be genuinely human with absolute seriousness and faithfulness.

Today's gospel confronts us with a person who failed at that vocation. With extended mercy and the complete forgiveness of an unpayable debt, this servant went out into his world and failed to extend even a fraction of the same mercy to one of his fellows. He was selfish, ungrateful, and unmindful of who he was in terms of his Master or the generosity which had been shown him. He failed to remain in touch with that mercy and likewise, he refused to extend it to others as called upon to do. He failed in his essential humanity and in the process he degraded and punished a fellow servant as inferior to himself when he should have done the opposite. Contrasted with this, and forming the liturgical and theological context for hearing this reading today, is the life of Maximillian Kolbe. Loved with an everlasting love, touched by God's infinite mercy and grace, Father Maximillian knew and affirmed who he truly was. More, in a situation of abject poverty and ultimate weakness, he remained in contact with the Source of his own humanity as the infinite well from which he would draw strength, dignity, courage, forgiveness, and compassion when confronted with a reality wholly dedicated to shattering, degrading, and destroying the humanity of those who became its victims. In every way he was the embodiment of St Paul's citation, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness!"

Block 13 where the "starvation cells" were

In Auschwitz, it is true that some spoke of Kolbe as a saint, and many knew he was a priest, but in this world where all were stripped of names and social standing of any kind, what stood out to everyone was Maximillian Kolbe's love for God and his fellow man; what stood out, in other words, was his humanity. Holiness for the Christian is defined in these terms. Authentic humanity and holiness are synonyms in Christianity, and both are marked by the capacity to love and be loved,  first (by) God and then (by) all those he has dignified as his image and holds as precious. In a world too often marked by mediocrity and even outright inhumanity, a world too frequently dominated by those structures, institutions, and dynamics which seem bigger than we are and incapable of being resisted or changed, we need to remember Maximillian Kolbe's example. Oftentimes we focus on serving others, feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless and the like, and these things are important. But in Kolbe's world when very little of this kind of service was possible (though Kolbe did what was possible and prudent here) what stood out was not only the crust of bread pressed into a younger priest's hands, the cup of soup given gladly to another, but the very great and deep dignity and impress of his humanity. And of course, it stood out because beyond and beneath the need for food and shelter, what everyone was in terrible danger of losing was a sense of --- and capacity to act in terms of -- their own great dignity and humanity.

Marked above all as one loved by God, Father Maximillian lived out of that love and mercy. He extended it again and again (70 X 7) to everyone he met, and in the end, he made the final sacrifice: he gave his own life so that another might live. An extraordinary vocation marked by extraordinary holiness? Yes. But also our OWN vocation, a vocation to "ordinary" and true holiness, genuine humanity. As I said above, "In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell." In many ways this is precisely the gift we are called upon in Christ to be for our own times. Matthew's call to make forgiveness a way of life is a key to achieving this. May Saint Maximillian Kolbe's example inspire us to fulfill our own vocations in exemplary ways.

Bishops and Delegates as Contrary to the "Supreme Independence" of a Hermit?

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, in your last post [09.September. 2022, On Needing People] the questions asked something about the supervision of the bishop being contrary to the vocation of a hermit. I don't think you answered that so let me ask it again even if it is not what the original questioner had in mind. I have always thought of hermits as supremely independent --- being able to walk away from everything and everyone to live alone, but c 603 requires one live one's life under the supervision of a diocesan bishop. You have written about having a delegate who serves you and the bishop in meeting with you regularly. Isn't all of this contrary to the supreme independence of the hermit? Thanks!!]]

Thanks for continuing the conversation and for taking it further than the original poster did. As you will no doubt guess, I am going to disagree with your position, not only because I differ somewhat (mainly in emphasis) on your understanding of hermit life but more, because I think you and I have different notions of independence.

In the first place, I don't think of a hermit as one who leaves everything and everyone "in order to be alone". I think of a hermit as having done these things to seek and live in communion with God and, therefore, to be the truest and fullest Self s/he can be. The purpose of the life is not about being alone, nor about being hidden, or poor, or any number of other things; the purpose of the life is to put God first, to allow God's will to love us fully and unconditionally to be realized in our one very singular and infinitely precious life. Yes, this will mean being alone, poor, hidden, chaste, celibate, and any number of other things, but all of those serve this foundational purpose; they must not be mistaken for it. There is a second half to this foundational purpose, namely, in real ways the hermit leaves everything and everyone and seeks to live in Communion with God and to become and be the truest, fullest, self she can be for the sake of others. 

Hermits are, first and foremost witnesses (martyrs) to the Love of God that is the deepest need of and sufficient for every person. We "leave everything and everyone" to the extent and in the way we do so in order to live in the silence of solitude (life with God alone) so that others may also know that God alone is enough (i.e., only God can create, sustain, and complete us as persons). I want to be clear that hermits are not the only ones who witness to this truth; for instance, men and women religious also do so, but they image the way that occurs in community and hermits image this truth in the vividness of the silence of solitude. (Both hermits and cenobites live community, silence, and solitude, but they do so differently with different emphases in their lives.) Again, who the hermit is and what the hermit does, is meant to be a gift and ministry to and for the sake of others; she lives her life for the sake of others -- beginning with God's own sake.

So, with that important piece in place let's think about the term independence and especially its sense in Christian theology. To be truly free is to be empowered to be the person God wills us to be. It is to be able to live authentically and fully, the potential which is ours by virtue of our creation by God. There is a "free from" dimension to this empowerment as well as a "free for" dimension. For the person who exists in and through God in Christ, and to the extent this is true, there is freedom from sin (that is, from estrangement from God, self, and others), from ego, from much of the woundedness our lives in space and time cause us. This means too then, that there is the freedom to be Oneself for God, for the sake of God's good creation, and certainly for the sake of all who are precious to God. The hermit's freedom is very much this kind of freedom in both senses and dimensions.

If what one calls independence is ruled by ego, it is not genuine freedom. If we are not free to receive our lives as gift or others in a similar way, we do not know genuine freedom. If we are not free to give ourselves generously, to love and trust others in ways that empower them similarly, we are not truly free at all. Because we are only human as part of a community, because our humanity is a gift of God which is realized in and through our love of God and others and theirs of/for us, we need these same others if we are to be free. God is a community of love and God wills to draw us into that same reality; indeed, he has made us for this. By definition, humanity itself, and human freedom therefore is defined in terms of such community.

All of this makes the solitude of the authentic hermit incredibly paradoxical. To the degree it is genuine, it will be an expression of our seeking and being in intimate community with God, with our deepest selves, and, in other ways, with others. No matter what else we walk away from, we cannot walk away from God or our deepest selves without betraying the very nature of our existence as human, and too then, our vocation and its solitude in the process. By extension, we cannot walk away from others --- though most of the time we relate to them differently than most people do.

The vocation I have begun describing here is both difficult, rare, and, as noted, incredibly paradoxical. It is easy to mistake it for the isolation and misanthropy that marks the loner in today's society because externally these two can look a lot alike. When one doesn't know that (seeking and receiving) communion with God is the primary motivation and goal of the hermit, it is easy to imagine that the vaunted "eremitical freedom" means the freedom to walk away from every relationship and responsibility and do whatever one wants whenever one wants to do it. Adding to the confusion is the fact that the word "hermit" has been used in these two antithetical ways, again based on some externals alone. But authentic eremitical life is demanding, and because communion with God (being loved and loving in return in the way God loves and empowers one to love) is a difficult goal which requires the whole of one's life, it really does require supervision and work with a skilled spiritual director, etc., to keep one moving forward in receiving and embodying one's deepest truth.

Sin is, in the way I have defined it above, easy; refusing Life, which is always a gift of God, allowing it to slip away, choosing counterfeits and substitutes is easy. Holiness (being true to God and to one's deepest self in order to love as God loves), requires discipline, patience, commitment, and love --- including the love of those who know us and God, and who can help empower us to choose and continue to receive Life at every turn. In my own life those persons are a rare and precious gift. They include those who have agreed to serve me as spiritual director, as well as Director or delegate on behalf of my bishop and diocese to be sure that this vocation is lived well and in a way which is edifying to the life of the church and the understanding of all the faithful. 

The irony is that I could never be a hermit as c 603 defines one and as Christian tradition understands us without the assistance of others. I could never live the aloneness of a hermit with an ecclesial vocation by myself. To say with my life that God alone is sufficient for us, requires not just being embedded in the People of God and in God's own life, it requires those others who mediate God's love to me and remind me of those for whom I live as well. Even as a recluse (were I to find myself called to this even rarer form of eremitical life) I would require others, and that means others to and for whom I would feel grateful, those I would pray for, come to know in one way and another, and whose lives would therefore enrich the tapestry of my life as integral threads composing dimensions of my solitude. 

I'll stop this here, because I think I could keep writing for quite a while on this critical paradox. If you haven't read the following post, you should give it a look. It approaches some dimensions of this response -- becoming human, becoming holy, etc. -- with different imagery. That might be helpful to you. Inner Work and transparency to God As always, please get back to me if you have additional questions! 

Laetare Sunday: Embracing Stricter Separation from the World as a Way of Rejoicing in our call to Authentic Humanity

This afternoon I attended a retreat (virtual) offered as a gift by the Mission San Jose Dominicans. The presenter was Father Jim Clark from the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. It was a significant piece of an especially rich Advent season marked by the way my own inner work has come together along with resonances with Scripture from the Mark class and reflection on Canon 603 and the concept of stricter separation from the world --- something I mentioned in an earlier post because of the role it played in the renewal of my vows and in the notion of Sabbath as well. In today's retreat the presenter spoke of becoming our truest or authentic selves and of incarnating God in the process --- ideas which will certainly be familiar to readers of this blog. It reflects that process of kenosis (self emptying) I have sometimes described as "becoming wholly transparent to God."

In speaking of "guarding the heart" and "preparing the way of the Lord" Clarke referred to being careful of or avoiding anything causing us to lose sight of who we truly are. What struck me most about this was that it is a very good way to speak of what canon 603 calls, "stricter separation from the world". Ordinarily I define "the world" in the sense used by the canon in terms of anything "which resists or is antithetical to God in Christ (or to the love of God)" but this notion that "the world" could also be defined in terms of "anything causing us to lose sight of who we truly are" and are called to be was new to me. I have certainly approached this insight but never really saw or articulated it so directly before.  What I came to see  regarding what canon 603's stricter separation from the world requires of us is that it serves our focused journeying toward the realization of our truest selves and that it is primarily a positive element in the canon and in the spiritual life in so far as it helps prevent us from losing sight of who we really are. Also, of course, in and of itself stricter separation from the world can and inevitably will be misunderstood without this correlative and primary focus on the true or authentic self which God summons into being at each moment of our lives.

Father Clarke's presentation began with Mary Oliver's poem, "The Journey", which set the tone and key of the entire presentation:

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice—

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do—

determined to save

the only life you could save.

Learning to leave all of those distracting, distorting, and falsely defining voices behind to attend to that one new voice which is truly our very own, the voice of God which dwells within us as our deepest truth, our truest identity, and which calls us by name to truly be, requires we embrace a process of kenosis. It is a process in which slowly the stars begin to burn through the clouds that have surrounded us and prevented clarity; in fact, it is a process in which life begins to burn within us ever more abundantly if our journey is on track. But to stride deeper and deeper into the world of that authentic voice or call, will mean embracing a stricter separation from anything that obstructs our view of and commitment to becoming our truest selves. This really is the process of Advent. It is the process of the inner (growth) work I have referred to occasionally here; and it is the process and meaning of stricter separation from the world called for by canon 603 and echoed in our similar Sabbath practice. 

There is pain, struggle, and darkness in this kenotic process, but ultimately, it is marked by a profound freedom and joy as we embrace God and the deepest selves God creates within us. During this third week of Advent rejoice in the Advent journey. Rejoice as Isaiah call us to do in today's first reading and let us never lose sight of the God-given splendor of the one God calls us to be.

Rejoice heartily in the LORD,

in God is the joy of (our) soul;

for he has clothed (us) with a robe of salvation

and wrapped (us) in a mantle of justice,

like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem,

like a bride bedecked with her jewels.

On Transfiguration and Authentic Humanity

I am thinking about transfiguration and what the story of Jesus' transfiguration tells us. The story I have posted many times here regarding Jesus' transfiguration involves the main point that we don't see what is right in front of us; we see what we expect or are conditioned to see. Especially we don't always see the dignity of every human person or the profound potential which resides at their core. We sometimes speak of the human person as imago dei and we may recognize the vocation each one has to become imago Christi, but my sense is that most times folks don't quite know what to do with these references. How seriously are we meant to take them? Are they just a form of poetry or do they say something about the literal truth about our nature?

During Lent our focus tends to be more on the penitential, on our own sinfulness or "falling short" of the great potential and call that does exist at the core of our being than it is on that potential itself. We locate God outside of ourselves as judge, but can neglect the truth which the human heart reveals, namely that the human heart is the privileged place where God bears witness to Godself, and that the source and center of human life is divinity itself. During Lent then, while we attend to a need to do penance, to pray more regularly, and to develop the generosity of those who are loved unconditionally by God, we must not neglect the underlying conviction of the season, namely, we do these things because the person we are most truly shines like the sun and mediates the life and light of God to our world. Lenten penance is not merely about tidying up our moral lives or cleaning up the minor deficiencies or failings which mark and mar those lives; it is about getting in better touch with the incredible potential we carry within us and are called to embody exhaustively for God's sake and the sake of his entire creation.

To be a human being is to be the image of God. To be authentically human is to become imago Christi --- not as some pale reminder of a distant historical figure we admire a bit (or even love a lot), but as those who allow him to become the very shape and quality of the way we think and feel, approach and act towards our God, ourselves, and others. When the original disciples looked at Jesus they saw the Kingdom of God alive in our world; in him they saw human freedom as the counterpart of divine sovereignty and divine power made perfect (fully realized) in weakness. When we look at one another we should see the very same things. In Christ we see God, in ourselves we should see Christ. Transfiguration is at the heart of Lent, not only because conversion from sin is necessary, but because our deepest, truest selves yearn to shine through and remake us from our hearts outward. Transfiguration reveals what is truest, deepest, and lives right in front of us in every person and in ourselves all the time; it is a synonym for the conversion and reconciliation (the healing) of ourselves so that the divinity we know as "Love-in-Act," shines through and illuminates the whole. That is the essence of authentic humanity.

On Hermits, Home Visits, and "Appropriate Topics" for Conversation

[[Hi Sister Laurel! Happy Easter!!!  I wondered if you go home for Easter or what you do? If you are with your family or friends I wondered how that works. Do you just talk God-talk or do you talk about other things? Do you have to pretend not to be a hermit or need to "live a double life"? I'm asking because I heard someone saying they had to do that with her family --- I guess she is not Catholic. Is your family Catholic? Does being a hermit mean you only talk about "spiritual things"? You can tell I don't have any idea about this kind of thing so could you tell me a little bit about how you spend holidays and visits with friends and family?]]

Hi there and Happy Easter to you as well!  Good to hear from you again. Christ is risen, Alleluia!!

I know I have answered similar questions before so while I will write a new answer for you I hope you will look at On Family Visits and Visits With Friends and perhaps Visiting Family and friends: Followup Question. There are a couple of other posts under the label "Family Visits" which might be edifying, especially as they distinguish being an authentic hermit (that is, being oneself) versus being a stereotype or some sort of imagined "hermit" type. But to answer your questions directly,  I don't ordinarily go home for Easter. My liturgical life is centered on my parish and I need to be able to participate there for the sake of my prayer life more generally. Moreover the parish is my faith family so sharing with them to the extent I feel called to do that during any given year is important for the quality of my eremitical life. I might choose to go on retreat during Holy Week and the Triduum, but a home visit is not usually something I would do during this specific time.

But during home visits the one thing I do not do is pretend not to be a hermit. While my family is not Catholic, I do not live a double life at such times --- or at any other time for that matter. I am myself and while I don't expect my family (or my friends) to accommodate me in terms of prayer, liturgy, silence, solitude, meals, etc., I am myself and do not pretend otherwise. To do so is contrary to my vocation and to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is contrary to God's reconciling love and will to being and doing the truth within and through me. But consider that neither does this mean I play at some sort of role or adopt the pretense of this or that eremitical character. I am a hermit; I do not play at being one. This means I bring the silence of solitude and eremitical prayer to whatever situation I find myself in. Sometimes (rarely with family) that may mean explicit God-talk (good term, by the way; one I also use) --- as when I am with certain high school friends or Sister friends. But most times it will mean talking about the profoundly human in thoroughly human and everyday terms. After all, that is the way the Spirit works to sanctify any reality, no?

 So, during infrequent home visits or time away with friends, conversations revolve around our lives, our dreams, those we love, and those we struggle to love, the work and relationships which gives our lives meaning, failures, successes, memories, and (sometimes explicitly) the grace of God in all of this. There are walks and shared meals (including grace), remembered past times together, sightseeing, window shopping, and exclamations over shared experiences of beauty and the talent of artisans, lots of laughter, and often serious conversations as well. Is any of this "profane" (outside the precincts of the sacred)? Does any of it fall outside the realm or movement of the Holy Spirit? I don't think so. The compartmentalization of reality (and conversations about reality) into spiritual things and non-spiritual or profane things, especially in light of the Incarnate Christ who tore asunder any veil distinguishing the sacred from the profane, shows a profound misunderstanding of what an authentic spirituality looks like.

If someone you read claims to be a hermit and said they would only talk about spiritual things with relatives or friends I would suggest the following are true: 1) they are not truly a hermit -- though they may well be an isolated individual playing at being a hermit, 2) they are not possessed of a genuine or at least a mature spirituality, and 3) they are not particularly loving or open in the way they relate to others! Imagine demanding relatives and friends only talk about football, or politics because those dominate your life, or, more specifically, that they never mention the things which really move or excite or concern them because it does not fall within your own narrowly defined "spiritual" bailiwick? This demand limiting what folks can talk about with one is a false attempt to control reality while pointing to one's own supposed "spiritual status" or expertise; it is an implicit and illicit judgment on those whose spirituality may actually be more wholesome and integral than one's own. It certainly seems less pharisaical than a supposed "hermit" who can tolerate nothing but specifically "spiritual" conversation. Hermits live in and towards the silence of solitude but they are not hot house plants that cannot tolerate a more ordinary environment. To the extent they are authentic hermits I think just the opposite is true; they see and hear God everywhere and locate the Divine presence in almost every conversation or relationship even when that presence is not made explicit. After all, the Incarnation reveals how profoundly the ordinary belongs to and mediates the extraordinary reality we call God. Hermits should be capable of perceiving this Presence even in obscurity and profound brokenness.

One of the things we grow in as we grow spiritually is in our sense of how profoundly like as well as unlike others we are. Though our lifestyles, life experiences, and vocations may differ one from another, we come to see that we have the same yearnings, dreams, desires, needs, failings, limitations,  potentials, etc., as the persons all around us. We also come to be able to hear the deep questions, concerns, and doubts, and perceive the transcendent potential living deep within each person. In all of this are the roots of authentic spirituality and a compassion and love which marks such a spirituality. None of these need be dressed up in pious language --- though sometimes specifically theological language can be helpful in expressing these deep realities. Still, the authentically spiritual is profoundly human just as it is profoundly divine.

Thus, it seems to me that a hermit should certainly be able to negotiate the real world without the compartmentalization described in your question  or a similar fragmentation which seems to me to be more typical of sinfulness (alienation) than human wholeness and relatedness! After all, eremitical life humanizes us; it strips us of pretense and allows us to stand secure as our truest selves in the love of God. If a "hermit" cannot relate to others without the pious role-playing described in your question, then better she have nothing to do with family and friends! If she cannot relate to them in genuine love, sincere interest, empathy, and compassion without playing a role or donning some sort of silly stereotype as the "character" friends and family are supposed to indulge, then she had best stay in her "hermitage" without contact with others --- and I say this not only for the sake of these same others, but for the sake of the eremitical vocation this "hermit" claims to represent!

Sister Rachel Denton, Er Dio

Let me clarify one thing; I don't expect hermits (whether canonical or non canonical) to be perfect (teleioi) in living their lives though I do expect them to be on the way towards the telos/goal of their lives. Still, at the same time neither do I have sympathy for those who are really little more than walking stereotypes! There is little throughout the history of eremitical life that has been more harmful to the hermit vocation than creation-hating, misanthropic eccentrics styling themselves as hermits and expecting others to somehow kowtow to their supposed "superior spirituality". I am reminded that Jesus was criticized by religious leaders of his day as a drunkard and glutton (i.e., a party animal!) who ate with and hosted the poor and sinners. Jesus who was a paradigm of contemplative prayer, was, precisely for that reason, one who was entirely comfortable not only with God but also with others whether he was in the fields, apart with his disciples on the sea of Galilee, teaching in the Temple, resting and eating in the homes of tax collectors, walking amongst, healing, and exorcising the marginalized anawim, or praying in the wilderness. The folks he really did not get on with, however, were those he called hypocrites --- those whose behavior did not match their inner states, those who Lorded it over others as "spiritual leaders", or placed needless religious burdens on the shoulders of those who could not bear them.

I hope this is helpful. It's clearly something I feel passionately about!

First day of Retreat: Traveling Light, Being Who I am.

One of the pieces of my life, one of the most important dynamics at play and one of the virtues I try to cultivate is transparency. Perhaps that is a contemporary way of speaking about the radical honesty we call humility. In any case, the habit, the cowl or other prayer garment requires that I be aware of any pretense that creeps into things. I am here at the Old Mission Santa Barbara for a week's retreat and that means that when I move from my room to the chapel (or elsewhere) to pray I wear my cowl over my habit. Now, there is nothing unusual in this really, monks and nuns and hermits have been doing it for centuries and centuries in the exact same way day in and day out. But, though I wear the cowl every day at the hermitage and always at liturgical prayer, moving from place to place in it is unusual for me! Add to that the public character of the mission setting and the effect is a little unsettling. And amazing. I am aware every day that I am part of a living tradition, that I do not need to pretend to anything; I simply need to be who I am. Today, I woke (late for me!) with the mission bells and walked in cowl and sandals through the mission on stones that were worn over centuries by all manner of persons. It was hard not to feel a little moved by the whole experience.

And concerned. At least a little at first --- about pretense and fantasy. Imagining the history of this place and the uniqueness of my own garb (though the Friars wear robes over their street clothes too, mine is clearly NOT Franciscan) it was easy to hear in my mind the slap of many friars' sandals and the quiet swish of monastic robes as I walked to chapel for Morning Prayer and Mass. It took a moment before I could actually realize afresh that I am a living part of this tradition, both the Franciscan, the monastic (which Franciscanism itself is not), and the eremitical. And at that point I let go of any remaining concern or self-consciousness. At that moment I prayed in gratitude to God who has allowed me in my own brokenness and littleness to be a graced part of this living stream. I was myself in this new place (it is only the second time I have made retreat here) and was at home.

That sense of being at home, of simply being oneself in Christ and the complete sufficiency of that, was echoed in the Gospel where the disciples are sent forth and told to take nothing extra with them. Our homilist, Fr Charles, drew a lesson from it for us: travel light. Heartache? Troublesome memories? Incomplete plans or unresolved problems? Leave them here (in the chapel and with the others here) today and travel light! (Charles told another great story about a passionate if naïve postulant too which I will save for another time!) So, I have come here, been warmly welcomed by old theology professors (we will make some time to get together for a while this week), old friends (ditto!), and new ones as well; God has welcomed me too with his little nudges about authenticity, transparency, and the wonderful reminder of how graced is my existence as a part of this vital confluence of traditions. How strange (well, wonderfully surprising -- yet again) to think that I never really ceased being Franciscan even as I took on Camaldolese Benedictinism, and how strange to find I really am at home. That sense of belonging wherever we go seems to me to be part of the heart of contemplative prayer and especially of Jesus' injunction to "pray always". In this silence I will be and become more and more the word --- indeed, the song --- I am called to be. What a gift to be able to BE here -- in every sense of that verb!

I will blog when I can and as the Spirit moves me. Writing helps me pray (not least by opening my mind and heart occasionally to the wider world I carry in my heart) so I will play/pray it by ear. I ask that you remember me in your prayers as well.

Feast of Maximillian Kolbe (Reprise)

Today is the feast day of Maximillian Kolbe who died on this day in Auschwitz after two months there, and two weeks in the bunker of death-by-starvation. Kolbe had offered to take the place of a prisoner selected for starvation in reprisal when another prisoner was found missing and thought to have escaped. The Kommandant, taken aback by Kolbe's dignity, and perhaps by the unprecedented humanity being shown, stepped back and then granted the request. Father Maximillian sustained his fellow prisoners and assisted them in their dying. He was one of four remaining prisoners who were murdered in Block 13 (see illustration below) by an injection of Carbolic Acid when the Nazi's deemed their death by starvation was taking too long. When the bunker was visited by a secretary-interpreter immediately after the injections, he found the three other prisoners lying on the ground, begrimed and showing the ravages of the suffering they had undergone. Maximillian Kolbe sat against the wall, his face serene and radiant. Unlike the others he was clean and bright.

The stories told about Maximillian Kolbe's presence and influence in Aushwitz all stress a couple of things: first, there was his great love of God, Mary the Imaculata, and his fellow man; secondly, it focused on the tremendous humanity he lived out and modelled in the midst of a hell designed in every detail to dehumanize and degrade. These two things are intimately interrelated of course, and they give us a picture of authentic holiness which, extraordinary as it might have seemed in Auschwitz, is nothing less and nothing more than the vocation we are each called to in Christ. Together, these two dimensions of true holiness/authentic humanity result in "a life lived for others," as a gift to them in many ways -- self-sacrifice, generosity, kindness, courage, etc. In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell.

I think it is easy to forget this fundamental vocation, or at least to underestimate its value and challenge. We sometimes think our humanity is a given, an accomplished fact rather than a task and call to be accomplished. We also may think that it is possible to be truly human in solitary splendor. But our humanity is our essential vocation and it is something we only achieve in relation to God, his call, his mercy and love, his companionship --- and his people! (And this is as true for hermits and recluses as it is true for anyone else.) Likewise, we may think of vocation as a call to religious life, priesthood, marriage, singleness, eremitism, etc, but always, these are "merely" the paths towards achieving our foundational vocation to authentic humanity. Of course, it is not that we do not need excellent priests, religious, husbands and wives, parents, and so forth, but what is more true is that we need excellent human beings --- people who take the call and challenge to be genuinely human with absolute seriousness and faithfulness.

Today's gospel confronts us with a person who failed at that vocation. Extended mercy and the complete forgiveness of an unpayable debt, this servant went out into his world and failed to extend even a fraction of the same mercy to one of his fellows. He was selfish, ungrateful, and unmindful of who he was in terms of his Master or the generosity which had been shown him. He failed to remain in touch with that mercy and likewise he refused to extend it to others as called upon to do. He failed in his essential humanity and in the process he degraded and punished a fellow servant as inferior to himself when he should have done the opposite. Contrasted with this, and forming the liturgical and theological context for hearing this reading today, is the life of Maximillian Kolbe. Loved with an everlasting love, touched by God's infinite mercy and grace, Father Maximillian knew and affirmed who he truly was. More, in a situation of abject poverty and ultimate weakness, he remained in contact with the Source of his own humanity as the infinite well from which he would draw strength, dignity, courage, forgiveness, and compassion when confronted with a reality wholly dedicated to shattering, degrading, and destroying the humanity of those who became its victims. In every way he was the embodiment of St Paul's citation, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness!"

Block 13 where the "starvation cells" were

In Auschwitz it is true that some spoke of Kolbe as a saint, and many knew he was a priest, but in this world where all were stripped of names and social standing of any kind, what stood out to everyone was Maximillian Kolbe's love for God and his fellow man; what stood out, in other words, was his humanity. Holiness for the Christian is defined in these terms. Authentic humanity and holiness are synonyms in Christianity, and both are marked by the capacity to love and be loved,  first (by) God and then (by) all those he has dignified as his image and holds as precious. In a world too-often marked by mediocrity and even outright inhumanity, a world too frequently dominated by those structures, institutions, and dynamics which seem bigger than we are and incapable of being resisted or changed, we need to remember Maximillian Kolbe's example. Oftentimes we focus on serving others, feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless and the like, and these things are important. But in Kolbe's world when very little of this kind of service was possible (though Kolbe did what was possible and prudent here) what stood out was not only the crust of bread pressed into a younger priest's hands, the cup of soup given gladly to another, but the very great and deep dignity and impress of his humanity. And of course it stood out because beyond and beneath the need for food and shelter, what everyone was in terrible danger of losing was a sense of --- and capacity to act in terms of -- their own great dignity and humanity.

Marked above all as one loved by God, Father Maximillian lived out of that love and mercy. He extended it again and again (70 X 7) to everyone he met, and in the end, he made the final sacrifice: he gave his own life so that another might live. An extraordinary vocation marked by extraordinary holiness? Yes. But also our OWN vocation, a vocation to "ordinary" and true holiness, genuine humanity. As I said above, "In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell." In many ways this is precisely the gift we are called upon in Christ to be for our own times. Matthew's call to make forgiveness a way of life is a key to achieving this. May Saint Kolbe's example inspire us to fulfill our vocations in exemplary ways.