More Questions: On Hermits, Consecrated Virgins, and Eucharistic Spirituality

[[Dear Sister Laurel, do you think [the version] of Eucharistic spirituality [you have written about] works for non-hermits? What do you do with the Canon that requires you to attend Mass daily --- just ignore it? Some consecrated virgins argue that daily Mass attendance is something which should be required of them as consecrated women. How would you respond to them?]]

I do think this version of Eucharistic spirituality works for non-hermits. First of all I believe that everyone is called to let Eucharist work in their lives in a way which allows all of reality to be regarded as sacramental and to bring everything to a fullness of expression of the Word of God. Further, I think that every person is called to participate in the dynamics of self-emptying and resurrection (fullness) which are at the heart of the Eucharist. This is true no matter how often a person actually participates in the celebration of the Eucharist (so long as their participation per se is serious and allowed to serve as leaven for the whole of their lives). Some people are also called to share in the specifically eremitical dynamic of the redemption of isolation and its transformation into solitude. Often these persons cannot attend Mass with any regularity, but they can still live an essentially Eucharistic spirituality which is nourished and inspired by the Eucharist nonetheless.

As for the Canon you refer to, I am assuming you mean C 719, sec 2. Please note that this reads [[The celebration of the Eucharist, daily if possible, is to be the source and strength of the whole of their [members of religious institutes] consecrated life.]] All I can note is that this refers to the celebration of the Eucharist within the community itself --- something that is often not always practical today because of the shortage of priests. It also says, "if possible." I believe, therefore, that this canon recognizes that the Eucharist may and should well be the source and strength of one's life even if daily participation in it is not possible. In fact this is the focus of the text. Thus, while I don't ignore this canon, and while I believe it applies in a general way to diocesan hermits as well as to members of religious institutes, I also recognize that it is not meant to directly address solitary eremitical life, and is not as absolute in some ways as some people seem to believe. (For instance, it does not say, "Religious MUST attend daily Mass except when prevented by illness or other serious reason.") The focus of the Canon is on allowing Eucharist to be the source and strength of the whole of one's consecrated life, not on mandatory frequency of attendance per se.

Regarding consecrated virgins, I really don't see creating a general requirement for all CV's. Consecrated virgins are a diverse group. Despite being women "living in the world" some are more contemplative than others, some more involved in ministry, some live their consecration in challenging ways amidst the professional and business communities, and others mainly within a parish community with ministry to these people, etc. Certainly they must embrace a serious Eucharistic spirituality, but that does not necessarily mean daily Mass any more than it means that for religious women or diocesan hermits. My own preference here is to be more discerning regarding those women who are consecrated as virgins living in the world (i.e., make sure they have mature prayer lives and spiritualities) and allow them to do as they personally discern they are called to in conjunction with their directors, Bishops, etc. In other words, require that they do as they discern is essential in their own case. Some will surely find that daily Mass is both possible and important; others will find it less possible, but both will find that the spirituality to which it summons them is indispensable and non-negotiable. It depends on the individual, those to whom she ministers, etc, as to what she discerns is critical for her own life and praxis at any given point or time.

I am not particularly up on the conversations of the CV's who argue that daily Mass should be made a general requirement, but I wonder if it might not reflect a need to make the vocation approximate that of women Religious and to separate CV's (or establish themselves as clearly or visibly separated) from the laity. Since consecrated virginity itself is not understood readily as a distinct or significant vocation, it may also represent, at least for some, a piece of feeling a need to have the Church spell out additional requirements which seem to validate the vocation. In some ways it has always seemed to me that reprising this calling has created a "vocation in search of a job description." It is hard for people to understand this vocation because the CV's are not religious and are also something other (though not more!) than devoted lay persons. IF the vocation has validity (and I genuinely assume it does) then it does not have this as a pseudo or quasi Religious vocation. CV's will need to establish themselves and an understanding of the nature and significance of their vocation, but this, it seems to me, will never be done if the obligations attached to their consecration and the canon which governs the life are treated as inadequate and additional requirements added after the fact. Either this vocation is genuine and has its own significant nature and charism within the church, or it does not. Multiplying required external observances does not take the place of a (perhaps!) missing charism and essential justification. Instead, to me anyway, such multiplication looks a bit defensive --- as though CV's are not comfortable with the inner justification of the vocation per se.

While it is undeniably true that vocations and especially an understanding of their implications for the life of the Church develop over time, it HAS to be noted that the Church did NOT establish attendance at daily Mass as a requirement when it published Canon 604 and it might easily have done so in 1983 understanding that this was essential to the vocation. The same is true with other things like Liturgy of the Hours, Rule of Life, distinctive garb (veil, etc), a commitment to religious obedience, etc. Was the Church naive in establishing the vocation? Did it fail to regard and legislate what was essential to it? Someone would need to seriously demonstrate this, I think, if they were to claim that certain practices were essential to the vocation itself despite not being part of canon 604.

In this and other matters it would be especially pertinent and interesting to hear what discussions were held about this canon before it was promulgated. How did other drafts read? (Canon 603 had numerous drafts; I assume the same is true of Canon 604.) How did Bishops understand the nature and significance of the vocation? Why were vows not required? Why no Rule of Life? Why no distinguishing garb? Why was the relationship with the Bishop described as unique but not in terms of his being a legitimate superior and with no provision made for a promise of obedience, for instance? It seems very significant to me, and probably illustrative of how the Bishops envisioned the vocation, that these things were NOT required given how natural doing so would have been. (We know that these things CAN be spelled out because some of them at least are spelled out for diocesan hermits in C 603. It also seems that the institutional Church generally desires external signs and explicit requirements and commitments like promises of obedience. But in this case they did not go this way. Why not?) What was the role of the CV in the early Church? How did what came to be religious life differ and why? Answers to these questions would help me to answer your question a bit more intelligently, and it seems to me that they are questions anyone arguing the need for more general requirements should be very conversant with.

In any case, to get back to your question about Eucharistic spirituality and daily Mass attendance, it seems to me that consecrated virgins are certainly called to develop and model an intense and encompassing Eucharistic spirituality, but it must be done according to each virgin's own discernment, vision, and sphere of ministry. Some virgins will model this especially for those who cannot get to daily Mass; others will model it for those who can. Some will do it for those who are more contemplative, and some will do it for those with very active lives in business and the professions, for instance. However, all (one sincerely hopes and trusts) will do so with devotion and personal integrity.

Followup Questions: On Hermits and Eucharistic Spirituality

[[Dear Sister, your answer to my question divorces Eucharistic spirituality from actual participation at Holy Mass. It also makes solitude more important than Mass, which the Church teaches is the highest form of intimacy with God. We are never closer to God than we are at Holy Mass. If union with God is so important to the hermit then they should be at Mass every day. Eucharistic spirituality is about allowing Mass to be at the center of one's life and I don't think a hermit can do this if he misses it just because it is inconvenient to his solitude.]]

Thanks for following up. I feel at a bit of a loss in responding here because it seems to me that you didn't really read what I wrote about the place of solitude in the life of the hermit. Let me reiterate, hopefully more clearly, then: solitude is not merely an environment which makes prayer more possible, or which merely frees from other apostolates, etc; it is both the means and, when rightly understood, the goal of eremitical life. While Mass is surely critically important in the life of the solitary Catholic hermit, it is meant to assist her in developing a truly Eucharistic spirituality in and for eremitical solitude, where solitude is understood not simply as being alone (and certainly not as isolation!), but as being alone with/in God for others. Only if the hermit is faithful to the praxis and goal of solitude can she develop an eremitical spirituality of Eucharist which is open to others who MUST also miss Mass --- sometimes for very extended periods indeed. It is not that daily Mass is inconvenient to one's solitude --- as though solitude was simply something a hermit prefers to celebrating with the community, like sleeping in might be; it is the fact that solitude is the primary way in which the hermit grows in union with God, and the silence of solitude grows only in extended periods of solitary existence.

Thus, Eucharist is ordinarily (but not always!) present to the diocesan hermit in her hermitage precisely so she can 1) continue in solitary prayer, 2) understand and allow her prayer and her solitude itself to be communal or ecclesial, and 3) allow her life to be transformed in this solitude into bread broken and wine poured out for others --- and her hermitage to become a tabernacle of Christ's living presence within her diocese and parish. Notes from Stillsong Hermitage: On the Reservation of Eucharist by Hermits She will, of course, attend Mass regularly (though oftentimes not daily nor necessarily even weekly), and her life in the hermitage will be an expression of Eucharistic spirituality, but it will look differently at some points than it will for most faithful Catholics. In all of this it is really critical to understand that solitude is a genuine and privileged way to union with God for SOME. It requires we truly believe that God calls SOME to this (solitary) way of achieving human wholeness and sanctity (intimacy with/participation in God).

Having said that I need to disagree with some of what you have asserted. First, the Church does not teach that Mass is "the highest form of intimacy with God." As I noted on the Catholic Hermits list, while it is true that objectively Christ is present, body, blood, soul, and divinity, this may not and certainly does not automatically translate into subjective intimacy with God. Would that intimacy with God merely involved participation at Mass! But it does not any more than being present at a family gathering at Christmas and partaking of their meal automatically translates into subjective intimacy with family members. It is one thing to identify Eucharist as the source and summit of spiritual life, and another to call it the highest form of intimacy. For many, this actually occurs in quiet prayer, or in their time with lectio where the Word is grappled with and allowed to address them in profound ways. So, while I agree that ideally Eucharist should be a time of great intimacy with God in Christ, your own statement goes beyond what the Church teaches here.


More importantly, I don't think I have divorced Eucharistic spirituality from actual participation at Mass. What I have tried to do is look at Eucharistic spirituality with or from a broader perspective so that while I continue to see Mass as central to such a spirituality this spirituality is not associated merely with going to Mass, with Eucharistic adoration, or even with the actual presence of reserved Eucharist, but instead is a much more demanding and extensive reality which involves the transformation of all of one's world into an essentially sacramental reality. Thus my emphasis on the notion that all meals, for instance, be seen as holy --- and even as extensions of Mass --- or that one's very living space be seen as a tabernacle of Christ's presence, or that every bit of ordinary life be approached as at least potentially revealing the presence of God in the unexpected place, and so forth. (This should be true in every Christian home even though the Eucharist is not reserved there, I would argue.) It is Eucharistic spirituality which recognizes all of this and finds that one's own weakness and brokenness can become the vehicle or medium for God's own revelation of himself in the power of love. When lives are stamped with the impress of the cross and God brings new life out of that so that one lives a new joy, gratitude, and peace the world cannot give, THAT is Eucharistic spirituality; it is the realization of everything the Mass is meant to achieve, everything the risen Christ makes possible in our world.

I am not sure what else I can say. I do believe that it is ideal to be able to combine Mass and solitude. Some solitary hermits can do so either because they are priests or because they have priests on the property of their laura (some diocesan hermits have formed these), and because Mass in these cases usually involves a good deal more silence, and separation from guests, etc, than is present during Masses in parishes. (This is absolutely not a criticism of parish Masses which build community in significant -- but less silent or contemplative -- ways.) There are undoubtedly times when, for me as a diocesan hermit, the demands and challenges of solitude suffer or are significantly blunted or attenuated from attending daily Mass, but equally there are times when solitude itself demands I celebrate Mass with my faith community. At these latter times attendance at Mass sharpens the demands and challenges of solitude. I try to be sensitive to what is necessary and willed by God at any given time, but whatever I choose, it is NEVER a matter of mere convenience or inconvenience! Instead, what I decide is inevitably at the service of the broader sense of Eucharistic spirituality I have outlined here and in the earlier post.

Please do feel free to followup if you feel I have misheard, misunderstood, or simply failed to be clear. I appreciate specific questions which seek clarification, for instance, but whatever you feel will actually foster further fruitful discussion would be welcome.

"Rolling Requiem" September 11th

This weekend we mark the tenth anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers. Certainly it was an event that changed our country and which we mourn. It also signals some of the most striking heroism, courage and generosity we have known in the history of our country. As I noted several months ago the orchestra I play in (Oakland Civic Orchestra) with the Oakland Symphony Chorus, will, along with orchestras and choruses across the country, be performing Mozart's Requiem Mass as part of something called a "rolling requiem" --- a tribute to September 11th and all those who lost their lives, or participated in ways which make us rightly proud. The performance in Oakland will be at 5:30 pm at the new Cathedral of Christ the Light in Oakland.

By the way, this is not like just other usual concerts; those attending are invited to sing along, so if you have a score or a part, bring it along and join us in singing this Mass. (This may be a sure invitation to a train wreck or three, but it should also be great fun!) If you are not in the Oakland area check around to see where the Requiem is being performed in your own area and join them!

Hermits and Eucharistic Spirituality, Pointed Questions

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

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

On the Place of Solitude in the Hermit's Life

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

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

Eucharistic Spirituality in General

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

Eucharistic Spirituality, The Word Made Flesh

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

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

Eucharistic Spirituality, Flesh Made Word

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

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

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

Hermits and Self-Communication

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

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

Summing Things Up

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

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

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

On Hermitages becoming 501(c)3 (non profits)

[[Hi Sister Laurel, may diocesan hermits/hermitages become non-profits (501(c)3's)? Have you done that? ]]

Good questions. Please know that my answers here are completely provisional and I have not spoken to either canon or civil lawyers in any detail regarding this option. Also, I will limit my answers to the practicality and legitimacy of using 501(c)3 standing, and not to questions of self-support, poverty, the place of benefactors, etc. Your own question does come up occasionally, however. In fact, I was speaking to another hermit several weeks ago about this matter because he was interested in doing so and wondered what I knew and thought about it.

First, I have not done this because while religion is certainly the essential reason for the existence of Stillsong, there is no way to affirm that any monies coming to the hermitage are not meant to benefit myself directly. 501(c)3 status is not to be used in such a way. [[A section 501(c)(3) organization must not be organized or operated for the benefit of private interests, such as the creator or the creator's family, shareholders of the organization, other designated individuals, or persons controlled directly or indirectly by such private interests. No part of the net earnings of a section 501(c)(3) organization may inure to the benefit of any private shareholder or individual. A private shareholder or individual is a person having a personal and private interest in the activities of the organization.]] Since I do not, 1)  have multiple dwellings (e.g., hermitages for others as well as self), 2) own my own land, or 3) allow for retreats or have the expenses of providing for guests, etc, there is little about my own hermitage that is specifically for others or which requires a separate set of books and all that implies. Thus I think that everything here at Stillsong benefits me primarily and directly. While I sincerely hope it also benefits others, it usually does so indirectly, not in the way the non-profit law envisions or provides for, I think. 

This said, yes, it is possible for Canon 603 hermits to attain non-profit status. The guidebook on eremitical life put out in the past by the Diocese of LaCrosse is clear on this, and the IRS certainly allows it of publicly professed hermits. However, I personally don't think that every diocesan hermit should pursue this, or could do so either effectively or fruitfully. It could be a good idea if one was part of a laura of hermits and generally depended on benefactors (and the laura itself) for one's support or, was a solitary hermit in a situation like that described above, but for the solitary hermit who is simply part of a parish, works within the hermitage to support herself, and lives in a single resident dwelling, apartment, condo, or something similar, 501(c)3 status makes little sense. The hermit I spoke with about this had communicated with a canonist about it and the canonist had raised the same point noted above. He couldn't support the effort because all monies coming to the hermit benefited the hermit directly.

I do think it is a good idea for a diocesan hermit who is considering applying for 501(c)3 status to speak with a civil attorney who can explain the possibilities and limitations. It is completely possible that I simply don't understand how such non-profit status can apply to my own life and ministry or assist these, for instance, and yet there may be valid ways that it does.

Diocesan Hermits as Hothouse Blooms?

[[[Dear Sister Laurel, I have read where diocesan hermits are really a kind of betrayal of the eremitical ideal. You have answered questions on this yourself. One lay hermit writes, [[Hermit is a label, and [I] have realized people have very strong opinions and judgments of what is or is not a "hermit". Or a "Catholic hermit." Or a "canonically approved" or "diocesan hermit." Or a "lay hermit" or "privately consecrated hermit." Chucked them all. The formal garden variety of hermits, the canonical ones, are very much as grandifloras, tea, and other cultivated roses have become. Tended, noticed, prized, utilized, pruned, fertilized, identified, sprayed, winterized, mulched, composted, photographed, named, protected. The wild rose is out there, on its own, no temporal usefulness, loads of thorns, mostly undetected. Has to exist on the natural elements of God alone: air, rain, snow, sun, soil, darkness.]] I think she makes some good points. It looks to me like lay hermits are truer to the historical ideals of eremitical life. Since you are a diocesan hermit with some of those strong opinions referred to what do you think about the analogies used?]]]

Agreements and Disagreements

First, I genuinely agree with aspects of this quotation. For instance, I agree that in some ways it is much harder to live as a lay hermit without official standing (besides one's baptism) in the Church than it is to live as a diocesan hermit. It is true that the heart of any eremitical vocation is the fact that we must live with, from, and for God alone, and it is easier to do that when one has a sense that doing so is something recognized as infinitely valuable and when others have validated this vocation. This is true regarding the eremitical vocation generally and with regard to the individual's own call specifically. It is especially true in a world which does not understand or value solitude, or the essentially spiritual nature or divine grounding of human beings and in a Church which, despite a long history of official esteem for this, seems not to really value contemplative life --- much less solitary contemplative life. Hermits, as I have written many times, are always on the margins of society; when one lives in this way with official standing it creates a kind of freedom to explore this counter-cultural space without concern for the world's response to this. There is no doubt that in some ways it is much easier to live in this way when there is some sort of concrete approval for at least the vocation itself.

I would disagree that the eremitical vocation is "temporally useless" and I think qualifying "useless" in terms of temporality is confusing since every hermit lives in space and time. Another phrase (e.g., "in worldly terms") might be better. It is true that hermits are not producers, do not generally involve themselves in consumerism (thus contributing very little to the GNP, or economy generally). They are not mainly involved in ministries we can point to as valuable or fruitful. I would even argue that hermits are not some sort of "powerhouse of prayer" who --- as I read recently --- bring grace to those who do not pray as much. This image really bothers me on several levels and seems to buy into the very culture of "productiveness-as-a measure-of-value" that hermits reject. And yet, I completely agree that my presence and prayer within a community and parish serves as a kind of leaven here --- just as I believe that everyone who loves well and lives a generous, prayerful life does the same.

In many ways then, the eremitical life is one of worldly uselessness and perhaps this is what the author you cite is getting at. But at the same time, hermits are called to be prophetic presences within space and time. They witness to the fundamental relationship which constitutes each of us, and the dialogical character of authentic humanity rooted in that relationship. They witness to the fact that isolation can be redeemed here and now so that heaven can interpenetrate and communion become the defining reality for every person, no matter their "worldly" circumstances. This is a form of immense "temporal usefulness" because it serves God and God's kingdom as it is meant to be realized here and now. No one living at the heart of reality (as hermits do) and witnessing to the reality of redemption that occurs when human poverty and divine grace meet can be said to be "temporally useless."

I would strenuously disagree with the appropriateness of many of the applications of the "grandifloras" analogy to diocesan hermits: [[Tended, noticed, prized, utilized, pruned, fertilized, identified, sprayed, winterized, mulched, composted, photographed, named, protected.]] It is true that diocesan hermits are publicly professed and are often recognizable within their parishes (etc) because of garb, title, and the like. They are also, to the rather cautious degree the Church esteems and uses Canon 603, publicly valued. At the time of their profession they may indeed be photographed and written up in the diocesan paper because this is a significant event in the life of that church, but beyond that they ordinarily return to the obscurity of the hermitage. For this reason I honestly can't see the appropriateness or accuracy of the rest of the description --- especially when played off against the "wild rose" picture of lay hermits.

For instance, remember first of all that diocesan hermits are self-supporting. The Church does not provide anything towards their living expenses, domicile, retreat, education, formation, spiritual direction, medical (generally) or other insurance, etc. These are commitments consecrated solitary hermits are expected by the Church to take care of. So really, how are these diocesan hermits tended, pruned, fertilized, sprayed, winterized, mulched, composted, or protected in ways which differ from their lay brothers and sisters? Remember too, that generally their daily lives are hidden and not involved in active ministry. They may attend daily Mass a couple of times during the week (more if it is possible and does not detract from their solitude and less if it does), and other parishioners may assist them in the ways any needy person in the parish may get assistance (e.g., help with transportation, shopping, doctor's visits and the like), but how does this differ from what is available to lay hermits in the same parish setting? Yes, their gifts and education will be used by the parish in ways everyone discerning the matter finds appropriate, but again, how does this differ from the lay hermit in the same situation?

Public versus Private Vocations

Again, it is true that members of a diocesan hermit's parish (and diocese, etc) have the right to certain expectations of one who is publicly called from their midst and professed, consecrated, and officially commissioned to serve. This is not true in the same way for the lay hermit. While both are valued and expected to live their vocations with integrity, the private nature of the lay hermit's life means that more aspects of their life are indeed private and not susceptible to specific expectations. Even so, I don't think this means the diocesan hermit is being treated as a kind of hothouse plant. She must live poverty, celibate love, and obedience to God in recognizable ways. Her life must be a life of prayer steeped in the Word of God and this should be clear. She must live stricter separation from the world and the silence of solitude in ways which allow others to perceive the redemption possible and real in these. She may legitimately be expected to evidence the fact that love is the motivating force behind her vocation, and that she is growing in this --- even though this does not involve her in active ministry to a large degree. People have a right to necessarily expect these things of her. People have a right to understand her vocation and the concrete ways she lives this out in their midst. Of course this does not cancel out the normal privacy which obtains in any relationship with others, but it does point out the difference between public and private vocations.

At the same time, it can happen that lay hermits who really accept their integral place in the parish and diocesan communities are closer to the rest of the laity in some ways than are diocesan hermits. I have said before that lay hermits could well witness to the redemption of so much of the isolation and alienation in our society in ways which speak more effectively to those who will never seek canonical standing or public vows. Imagine what could happen in a parish if two or three authentic lay hermits along with their diocesan hermit sister or brother gave a workshop or talk geared to the isolated elderly and chronically ill in the parish! Imagine if they did this every six months and were otherwise occasionally available to talk with their fellow parishioners about the transformation of isolation into genuine solitude or the place of the solitary in the heart of the Church. Imagine what could happen if they confronted the questions associated with those unable to do active ministry and affirmed the importance of lay contemplative vocations in the heart of local parshes, churches, etc. The two vocations together have greater similarities than differences but they also complement each other in demonstrating or witnessing to the place of the hermit in the Church. But what I have asked you to imagine cannot really happen if a huge dichotomy between lay and diocesan hermits is drawn and exaggerated as in the images used by the hermit you have cited.

Summary, Betrayal of Desert Ideal

So, while I think the hermit you cited made a really good point about the difficulty of living as a lay hermit without official standing (as a hermit) in the Church, this should be balanced with an appreciation of the importance and possibilities of the lay eremitical vocation in today's church. I clearly think it is a mistake to speak of diocesan hermits as though they are hothouse plants which are constantly and especially tended, nurtured, nourished, etc. This is simply not accurate. Again, I also take issue with the assertion that eremitical life is "temporally useless," though I certainly believe it is true that it is mainly useless in "worldly" terms. As for betrayals of the ideal, eremitical life has always allowed for great flexibility and individual expression. There are certain essential elements which should define any life which is called eremitical (cf c 603), but otherwise legitimate differences are allowed in living out this life without considering these ways a betrayal of the ideal. In any case, betrayals may occur with either lay or diocesan hermits. What has always been true is that hermits have traditionally tried to find ways to live the Gospel while relating prophetically to the institutional church. The prophetic stance of the lay hermit may approximate that of the desert Fathers and Mothers more visibly than the stance of the diocesan hermit does, but so long as the diocesan hermit is true to and can articulate the nature of her own prophetic stance she too represents the desert ideal with fidelity.

Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard (reprise)

Tomorrow's Gospel is one of my all-time favorite parables, that of the laborers in the vineyard. The story is simple --- deceptively so in fact: workers come to work in the vineyard at various parts of the day all having contracted with the master of the vineyard to work for a day's wages. Some therefore work the whole day, some are brought in to work only half a day, and some are hired only when the master comes for them at the end of the day. When time comes to pay everyone what they are owed those who came in to work last are paid first and receive a full day's wages. Those who came in to work first expect to be paid more than these and are disappointed and begin complaining when they are given the same wage as those paid first. The response of the master reminds them that he has paid them what they contracted for, nothing less, and then asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own money. A saying is added: [in the Kingdom of God] the first shall be last and the last first.

Now, it is important to remember what the word parable means in appreciating what Jesus is actually doing with this story and seeing how it challenges us today. The word parable, as I have written before, comes from two Greek words, para meaning alongside of and balein, meaning to throw down. What Jesus does is to throw down first one set of values, one well-understood or common perspective, and allow people to get comfortable with that. (It is one they understand best so often Jesus merely needs to suggest it while his hearers fill in the rest. For instance he mentions a sower, or a vineyard and people fill in the details. Today he might well speak of a a CEO in an office, or a mother on a run to pick up kids from a swim meet or soccer practice.) Then, he throws down a second set of values or a second way of seeing reality which disorients and gets his hearers off-balance. This second set of values or new perspective is that of the Kingdom of God. Those who listen have to make a decision. (The purpose of the parable is not only to present the choice, but to engage the reader/hearer and shake them up or disorient them a bit so that a choice for something new can (and hopefully will) be made.) Either Jesus' hearers will reaffirm the common values or perspective or they will choose the values and perspective of the Kingdom of God. The second perspective, that of the Kingdom is often counterintuitive, ostensibly foolish or offensive, and never a matter of "common sense". To choose it --- and therefore to choose Jesus and the God he reveals --- ordinarily puts one in a place which is countercultural and often apparently ridiculous.

So what happens in today's Gospel? Again, Jesus tells a story about a vineyard and a master hiring workers. His readers know this world well and despite Jesus stating specifically that each man hired contracts for the same wage, common sense says that is unfair and the master MUST pay the later workers less than he pays those who came early to the fields and worked through the heat of the noonday sun. And of course, this is precisely what the early workers complain about to the master. It is precisely what most of US would complain about in our own workplaces if someone hired after us got more money, for instance, or if someone with a high school diploma got the same pay and benefit package as someone with a doctorate --- never mind that we agreed to this package! The same is true in terms of religion: "I spent my WHOLE life serving the Lord. I was baptized as an infant and went to Catholic schools from grade school through college and this upstart convert who has never done anything at all at the parish gets the Pastoral Associate job? No Way!! No FAIR!!" From our everyday perspective this would be a cogent objection and Jesus' insistence that all receive the same wage, not to mention that he seems to rub it in by calling the last hired to be paid first (i.e., the normal order of the Kingdom), is simply shocking.

And yet the master brings up two points which turn everything around: 1) he has paid everyone exactly what they contracted for --- a point which stops the complaints for the time being, and 2) he asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own gifts or money. He then reminds his hearers that the first shall be last, and the last first in the Kingdom of God. If someone was making these remarks to us in response to cries of "unfair" it would bring us up short, wouldn't it? If we were already a bit disoriented by a pay master who changed the rules of commonsense disbursal this would no doubt underscore the situation. It might also cause us to take a long look at ourselves and the values by which we live our lives. We might ask ourselves if the values and standards of the Kingdom are really SO different than those we operate by everyday of our lives, not to mention, do we really want to "buy into" this Kingdom if the rewards are really parcelled out in this way, even for people less "gifted" and less "committed" than we consider ourselves! Of course, we might not phrase things so bluntly. If we are honest, we will begin to see more than our own brilliance, giftedness, or commitedness; we might begin to see these along with a deep neediness, a persistent and genuine fear at the cost involved in accepting this "Kingdom" instead of the world we know and have accommodated ourselves to so well.

We might consider too, and carefully, that the Kingdom is not an otherwordly heaven, but that it is the realm of God's sovereignty which, especially in Christ, interpenetrates this world, and is actually the goal and perfection of this world; when we do, the dilemma before us gets even sharper. There is no real room for opting for this world's values now in the hope that those "other Kingdomly values" only kick in after death! All that render to Caesar stuff is actually a bit of a joke if we think we can divvy things up neatly and comfortably (I am sure Jesus was asking for the gift of one's whole self and nothing less when he made this statement!), because after all, what REALLY belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God? No, no compromises are really allowed with today's parable, no easy blending of the vast discrepancy between the realm of God's sovereignty and the world which is ordered to greed, competition, self-aggrandizement and hypocrisy, nor therefore, to the choice Jesus puts before us.

So, what side will we come down on after all this disorientation and shaking up? I know that every time I hear this parable it touches a place in me (yet another one!!) that resents the values and standards of the Kingdom and that desires I measure things VERY differently indeed. It may be a part of me that resists the idea that everything I have and am is God's gift, even if I worked hard in cooperating with that (my very capacity and willingness to cooperate are ALSO gifts of God!). It may be a part of me that looks down my nose at this person or that and considers myself better in some way (smarter, more gifted, a harder worker, stronger, more faithful, born to a better class of parents, etc, etc). It may be part of me that resents another's wage or benefits despite the fact that I am not really in need of more myself. It may even be a part of me that resents my own weakness and inabilities, my own illness and incapacities which lead me to despise the preciousness and value of my life and his own way of valuing it which is God's gift to me and to the world. I am socialized in this first-world-culture and there is no doubt that it resides deeply and pervasively within me contending always for the Kingdom of God's sovereignty in my heart and living. I suspect this is true for most of us, and that today's Gospel challenges us to make a renewed choice for the Kingdom in yet another way or to another more profound or extensive degree.

For Christians every day is gift and we are given precisely what we need to live fully and with real integrity if only we will choose to accept it. We are precious to God, and this is often hard to really accept, but neither more nor less precious than the person standing in the grocery store line ahead of us or folded dirty and dishelveled behind a begging sign on the street corner near our bank or outside our favorite coffee shop. The wage we have agreed to (or been offered) is the gift of God's very self along with his judgment that we are indeed precious, and so, the free and abundant but cruciform life of a shared history and destiny with that same God whose characteristic way of being is kenotic. He pours himself out with equal abandon for each of us whether we have served him our whole lives or only just met him this afternoon. He does so whether we are well and whole, or broken and feeble. And he asks us to do the same, to pour ourselves out similarly both for his own sake and for the sake of his creation-made-to-be God's Kingdom.

To do so means to decide for his reign now and tomorrow and the day after that; it means to accept his gift of Self as fully as he wills to give it, and it therefore means to listen to him and his Word so that we MAY be able to decide and order our lives appropriately in his gratuitous love and mercy. The parable in today's Gospel is a gift which makes this possible --- if only we would allow it to work as Jesus empowers and wills it!

Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, OCD (Reprise)

Today marks the day on which Sister Teresa Benedicta, OCD, was martyred in 1942.

"We bow down before the testimony of the life and death of Edith Stein, an outstanding daughter of Israel and at the same time a daughter of the Carmelite Order, Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, a personality who united within her rich life a dramatic synthesis of our century. It was the synthesis of a history full of deep wounds that are still hurting ... and also the synthesis of the full truth about man. All this came together in a single heart that remained restless and unfulfilled until it finally found rest in God." These were the words of Pope John Paul II when he beatified Edith Stein in Cologne on 1 May 1987.

Sister Teresa Bendicta was, by all accounts, a brilliant philosopher. Of Jewish parentage, she was academically gifted throughout her life. She studied under Edmund Husserl the celebrated phenomenologist at a time when women were rare in this field, and in fact worked as his assistant. She received her PhD, Summa Cum Laude (with highest honor). Subsequently she established herself as philosopher, translator, and writer, and then, after turning to Christianity, sought the greater solitude of the Carmelite Order. When WW II broke out she transferred from a Carmel in Cologne to another house (Echt) in neutral Holland so that her Sisters might be protected from Nazi persecution due to her presence.

When the Bishops in the Netherlands protested the removal of Jewish children from Catholic schools, and the transportation of Jews to the concentration camps, the Nazis retaliated and arrested all Catholic Jews in Holland. Sister Benedicta, who could have escaped this fate, went with them as a sign of personal solidarity with her people and a witness to Christian love and solidarity as well. The Carmelite was taken to Auschwitz where she died on 09.Aug.1942 in the gas chambers there. As noted, she was beatified on 01.May.1987, canonized on 11.Oct.1998, and remains a witness to the triumph of the cross of Christ, in her thought, writing, piety, and above all, in her living and dying in the hope of Christ.

For a good biography of Sr Teresa Benedicta, try Edith Stein, The Life of a Philosopher and Carmelite, by Teresa Renata Posselt, OCD, ICS Publications. Posselt was the Novice Mistress and then the Mother Prioress when Edith Stein lived at the Cologne Carmel. The text has been reprinted and enlarged with scholarly perspectives published in separate "gleanings" sections, so they are available, but do not intrude on Posselt's text.

Another excellent biography you might check out is, Edith Stein, A Biography by Waltraud Herbstrith, OCD, Harper and Row. Sister Herbstrith knew Edith Stein well and has apparently spent a large part of her life making sure the story of Sister Benedicta's life and martyrdom was completely told.

On Books and Hermits Writing in (or out of) their Hiddenness

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I guess it is kind of funny to be asking about books by hermits since they are supposed to be hermits separated from the world, but I am interested in reading about hermits' lives and things by hermits. Do you have any suggestions for good books? ]]

Hi. This is a great question and it is the first time anyone has ever asked it, so thanks a lot! There is a lot of good writing about the hermit life available (well, lots more than there was just a few years ago anyway!). Let me start with the newest stuff out there --- or at least fairly new stuff. Regarding books by hermits, I think the best book available on the nature of eremitical life is The Eremitic Life by Cornelius Wencel. Fr Wencel is a Camaldolese, but from a different congregation than I am associated with. He is a Monte Corona Camaldolese whose "founder" (besides Romuald) is Paul Giustiniani, a Camaldolese reformer; also unlike the OSB Cam, this congregation (Er Cam) has hermits only --- there is no cenobitical expression. This is not a "how to" book, nor a description of day to day living, but an extended reflection on the heart of the life and vocation.

Another book I would highly recommend and which written by a hermit in Wales is, A Simplified Life by Sister Verena Schiller. Sister writes beautifully, and gently introduces the reader to the daily life of a hermit by her own reflections on the landscape and history of her place. As she explores the place, she comes to live the eremitical life more and more deeply. It is a remarkable illustration of solitary stability as growth in depth (and deep truth). Sister Schiller is a member of the Episcopal (Anglican) Sisters of the Holy Name. Her work is studded with poetry and is laced with really good scriptural theology. For instance, she quotes Mary Lou Kowanacki, OSB (who is quoting Ryokan) on one essential and tension-filled dynamic of the eremitic life from Between Two Souls:

Some would say it is running away, others a running towards
This is the Way he travelled to flee the world;
This is the Way he travelled to return to the world.
I, too, come and go along this Sacred Path
That bridges life and death
And traverses illusion. (p.146)

Two other good books on the solitary life are, The Power of Solitude by Annemarie Kidder. Kidder deals with all the basic questions raised by solitude in a world dominated by "noise and numbers." (This includes friendship and mystical experiences and many other realities of a life focused "on God Alone".) It is a book I would recommend to hermits or to any serious Christian --- actually anyone trying to build in and negotiate the tensions involved in embracing solitude. The second book is Silent Dwellers, Embracing the Solitary Life, by Barbara Errako Taylor. While I disagreed with some aspects of this book (especially Erakko's understanding of the reason for and dynamic behind celibacy --- consecrated or otherwise) --- I thought she did a terrific job with things like the quest for simplicity, for instance.

Lastly for now, and certainly not least, I would recommend Sister Jeremy Hall's, Silence, Solitude, Simplicity, A Hermit's Love Affair With a Noisy, Crowded, and Complicated World. One of the most significant parts of this book is Sister Jeremy's description of the desert in desert spirituality as "A Place of Meeting." Another is her identification of Silence as "A reverence for speech". As with all authentic hermits, Sister Jeremy is deeply attuned to the reality of paradox and often pairs such things as "simplicity and inner riches", "silence and the word", "solitude and community", etc because these point to the various dynamics and tensions a hermit has to negotiate and embody in her life. One thing that comes through clearly in Sister Jeremy's work is the paradoxical fruitfulness of desert existence. At the same time, the subtitle of this book encapsulates the same paradox found in Wencel's book, namely, that hermits live a separation from the world not because they hate or reject God's creation, but in order to love it better and more honestly. 

By the way, ordinarily I would suggest several books by Thomas Merton regarding eremitical life, but I think those could wait until later. For now let me note merely the essay "Notes for a Philosophy of Solitude" in Disputed Questions. It is the heart of Merton's theology of eremitical life. Beyond this Merton often speaks directly to the first sentence of your own question --- the idea that it is strange to look to hermits to write about the essentially hidden life of a hermit. This raises the question of the interesting paradox that Merton lived and dealt with daily, that I myself deal with somewhat similarly because of this blog, for instance, and which Sister Verena also refers to in her book (A Simplified Life): [[ The very term hermit or solitary implies a reclusiveness, a living apart, a certain hiddenness, a life not to be exposed to the public gaze or written about. Yet it is through the writings of hermits and the faithful records of those who have visited them, dating back as far as the fourth and fifth centuries when the first Christan hermits began their lives in the Egyptian and Syrian deserts, that we owe much of their lives and spiritual insights.]] In its own way Cornelius Wencel's book deals with this same tension and dynamic, as does Sister Kowanacki in the passage cited above, etc.

I hope this helps as a start

Kohlberg's stages, Ego, and the Desire for Renown

Sister I read the following online. It was written last September and I wondered if you could comment on it since you have written on the issue yourself.

[[As for someone who keeps tabs on such matters has informed, there is still the niggling over what hermits call themselves or not, whether a Catholic hermit or a whobody hermit, whether Jesus' Catholic hermit or Canon Law's Catholic Hermit. Whether a priest can call a hermit a Catholic hermit, or whether a Bishop must call a hermit a Catholic hermit.

Of course, ultimately and presently, it does not matter. Such niggling only brings the nigglers to the imprisonment of Kohlberg's fourth stage (or even down to the second) of moral development. To a hermit of Christ, a Catholic hermit without identity, it does not matter. It does not matter to pew Catholics, nor to non-Catholics. And it will never matter to anyone but those few who are caught up in identity and need for renown in the visible Church.]]

Yes, I have read the comment, but as you note, it was a while ago. In fact I also responded to a question regarding another post from the same blog just a month later so I am certainly familiar with it. The author has an interesting and, to my mind anyway, somewhat cynical perspective on diocesan eremitical life. The question from the same time period I already responded to had to do with visibility as a betrayal of the authentic eremitical vocation. In answering that I referred to the essential hiddenness of the hermit life. I also clarified the source of Canon 603 and how both Canon Law and the Catechism impact the life of the canonical hermit --- for they do so quite in different ways. At this point I should note that the blogger in question is no longer adding posts to this blog, and claims to have moved beyond the designations "hermit" or "Catholic hermit" --- though of course the older posts are still extant and apparently still being read. Because of that, I suppose I will continue to respond to occasional questions regarding older posts.

Kohlberg's Stages Misunderstood

In dealing with Kohlberg's stages of moral development, it is probably important to clarify that, at least as I understand the matter, when one moves to another stage of moral development, elements of the earlier stages do not simply drop away. Instead, they are transcended through integration into a more comprehensive and less one-sided or undifferentiated stage of moral decision-making. So, for instance, a person who went through a stage in moral development where law was their driving concern (and we all do this) may still allude to law in making moral decisions without becoming legalistic, or to the place of authority (4th stage development) without subscribing (or regressing) to a "law and order" way of justifying moral behavior and choices. We see this in people who respect the law and authority but who are capable of creative responses to moral situations law is too general to address. That person might well refer to law or legitimate authority, but be quite far from being driven by a "law-and-order" mentality or legalism of any kind. In fact, it is a sign of relative maturity that in their creative responses to reality they can allow law and authority a proper place.

Thus, one may be well-anchored in what Kohlberg identifies as the post-conventional or more mature and less self-centered stages of justifying moral decisions and still point out that law is important. The same with genuine authority. My own position that Canon Law serves love in various ways (to the extent this is actually true and allowed to be true) is an example of this kind of justification I think. What is preeminently important in determining what is moral (and truly human) here is charity, but the person who loves well does not simply or generally jettison law or authority in the process. Neither does a theologian who refers to authority in the Church, or to the rightful (pastoral!) application of canon law, automatically regress to earlier stages of moral development and motivation in so doing. The opposite is more likely true if the emphasis is truly on the pastoral. On the other hand, the person who dismisses the rightful place of law and authority in life may well be regressing to a more infantile and individualistic "anything goes so long as it serves me" stage of moral decision making.

So Who Cares?

The second point the poster makes is that who is or is not a Catholic hermit does not matter to anyone except those "few who are caught up in identity and need for renown in the visible Church." I suspect the author meant ego rather than identity (for existing in Christ is a matter of significant identity, though not of ego) but I can only respond to what she said. Of course I disagree, and I do so because words have meaning and the meaning of words (and the lives and other realities they describe) is important to people. As I have noted before, there is a thing called "truth in advertising" and if one says they are a Catholic Hermit, others have the right to expect that they are using the term in the way the Catholic Church uses it and have accepted all the rights and commensurate obligations which are linked to it. That is only fair and only charitable to others who seek to understand and trust the reality to which the term points. It is also only fair to the word itself, for to use it any way one wishes is to empty the word of meaning and make it untrustworthy or unbelievable. As I have noted before, a word that comes to mean anything at all simultaneously comes to mean nothing whatsoever.

This blog has noted a number of times that the term Catholic Hermit indicates a public vocation accepted and lived out in the name of the Church, and perforce, it therefore means that others necessarily have a right to certain expectations of the one so designated. They do not necessarily have the right to those same expectations when the person is a privately dedicated hermit. Again, while this emphatically does not mean that the lay hermit is less a hermit or lives the life less well than the diocesan hermit, it does mean that 1) the diocesan hermit is responsible to the Church and in a formal and objective way that differs from the more private responsibility of the lay hermit, and 2) this results in expectations on the part of the faithful which are their right by virtue of the hermit's public profession and consecration.

To argue that speaking of the import of canonical standing or the designation "Catholic Hermit" and all these things mean for the hermit and others is "niggling" or that people in the pew don't care who is called these things is naive, and perhaps disingenuous. If a person showed up at Mass and introduced herself as a "Catholic Hermit", but later on made it clear that she really only meant she was Catholic and living a relatively pious life alone, one doesn't have to think hard to see what the result would be. It would be especially problematical if, for instance, that person calling themselves a hermit proved to have serious emotional difficulties and used the term hermit to justify social isolation, an inability to love people, or a spirituality which was so individualistic as to interfere with one's capacity to participate in or build community. In all these instances the person would be furthering destructive stereotypes of the term "hermit" --- something which is, unfortunately, not uncommon. (Remember the post about Tom Leppard.) It would, if qualified as the life of a "Catholic Hermit", be especially detrimental to a general understanding of the vocation the Church has only recognized in Canon Law for the first time beginning just 28 years ago.

Of course, it is absolutely true that most people are unlikely to care which Canon prohibits the use of the term "Catholic" for individuals and groups except as appropriate authority allows, but they will surely care whether a person IS what they claim to be or not, especially if they are not using the terms in the same sense the Church does more generally. The above examples of stereotypes aside, consider a person showing up at a parish in a habit, or using the title Sister or Brother (and expecting others to do likewise in their regard) because by baptism we are all sisters and brothers to one another. Would a parish congregation really not care that the title and garb were self-assumed? Would it really not matter that the person has no authority to do this, no formation, no legitimate supervision, no formal and binding commitment in law, and apparently, no real concern for or responsibility to the people (or local church and community) to whom they are presenting themselves? I have to say my own parish and diocese would certainly care. In any case, even if they failed to care would this be a cogent argument? Do we really want to say, "No one really cares about the truth here, so it doesn't matter"?

On A Desire For Renown

Finally, a note regarding identity and being caught up in the need for renown. First, as noted above, ego and identity are very different things and should not be confused with one another. As Christians we have a unique identity in the world. It is a significant identity, and one which is a gift to us and to the rest of the church and world whenever it is lived with integrity. To be clear about our own identity can be a way of honoring the Spirit who graces us and forms us in this identity. To indicate that one is a diocesan or "Catholic" Hermit is a way of being clear that the Holy Spirit is working in the Church this way, and in fact, in one's own life specifically. Since this work is essentially redemptive and a source of hope to many, it is no small matter! And if this is true, then admitting one's identity in the Church is a piece of humbly accepting oneself and glorifying God. It need have nothing whatsoever to do with a desire for personal renown, so one ought to be wary of judging motives on the basis of external conditions alone.

For instance, I have a blog and this last year did a podcast. Did (or do) I do those for personal renown, or because these serve the Church and this vocation by helping people become aware of it and transcend some of the stereotypes which still attach to it? The external reality (the blog, the podcast) is the same, but the motives cannot be seen merely by looking to the external reality. The same is true of habit, title, and post-nomial initials. Did I adopt and do I use these because of ego and a desire for renown, or is there a more legitimate reason? As the blogger you quote also says, "The habit (externals) does not make the person." True enough but this truth cuts two ways: it may refer to the arrogant or hypocritical religious (or hermit) in a habit, of course, but it may also refer to the person who is smug and condescending in his "hiddenness" or exterior obscurity while judging the other on appearances. The simple fact is that most likely there are elements of both stellar motives and less stellar ones present in any person's divided, ambivalent heart. Once again, last Sunday's parable of the weeds and wheat is appropriate here, I think. When dealing with the motives of another, we must allow these to stand and grow alongside one another for fear of uprooting (or in this case, mis-judging) what is of God. We should trust the person to deal with her own ambivalence or ambiguity over time. Judgment is rightly and ultimately left to "God and his angels."

Regarding hermits and renown more generally though, it should be recalled that they have, at times, been drawn kicking and screaming (or the inner equivalent of that) --- but obedient nonetheless --- into the ecclesiastical and even political limelight, sometimes becoming Cardinals and even Popes in the process. One hardly considers they agreed to this as part of a hunger or drive for renown (much less a regression to a more primitive stage of moral decision-making defined in terms of self-interest and benefit). My mind goes back to Peter Damian (Camaldolese) who was one such hermit-Cardinal and Doctor of the Church. He was a reformer and prodigious writer, battling against simony and other problems through open letters and pamphlets. Was he accepting of the title Cardinal (etc.) because he was hungry for renown? Did he get involved in questions of reform and renewal out of mere self-interest? A prudent or judicious person would hardly suggest this without real evidence!

More Questions on Loneliness

[[Sister Laurel, I read what you wrote about loneliness recently. Thank you. Can you explain what you mean by malignant loneliness and why you describe it that way?...]]

I really appreciate the questions that come my way because of this blog. As you say, recently someone asked about loneliness and what I do if and when I feel lonely. I wrote that I sometimes feel lonely when I have something in particular to share (something I have read, heard, which came up in prayer, etc). I have not stopped thinking about loneliness and the distinctions I drew. This weekend I have been reading Jaycee Dugard's, memoirs of her time in captivity after her abduction. For these reasons and others your questions are very timely. While Ms Dugard's story is difficult in many ways, it is also amazing, particularly for those who are interested in isolation or physical solitude, the redemption of isolation --- especially as a process of healing and maturation --- or for the incredible capacity of the human being to be sustained by love and the hope of love --- even love which is distant or barely remembered.

One of the things Ms Dugard describes so well though is what I would call malignant loneliness. She describes this as a dominant feeling throughout her story, and at one point she says the following. [[Lonely, that's how I feel. Lonely and incomplete.]] It seems to me that Jaycee puts her finger on the reason hermits do not generally feel a kind of malignant loneliness, a complicated loneliness which includes a desperate need to fill the hole, a kind of solitariness which can be anxious, depressed, indiscriminately searching, open even to illegitimate affirmation and validation, and subject to all the kinds of distraction and anesthesia our culture offers, etc. Hermits do not always feel God's presence, nor do they need to. They may certainly feel a longing for God which is profound, but even so, they do feel an essential completion by God's love and this really foundational love results in a sense of essential wholeness which prevents loneliness from becoming a malignant reality.

When I used the term malignant loneliness the first time a while back (two or so years ago for A Nun's Life and some questions Sister Julie asked me), I wasn't completely clear why I chose that term either so your question is excellent. In thinking about all this recently, it became freshly clear to me that some forms of loneliness stem from deficiencies which touch every aspect of our lives. They have tendrils which leave nothing unaffected, and their roots are so deep that nothing seems to be able to touch them and ease the situation. In using the term malignant I think I had in mind something like a cancer which metastasizes aggressively or has sticky tendrils like a glioma and leaves nothing untouched. Jaycee Dugard lived and wrote about the same kind of thing in her book, The Lost Life.

At the same time, there is not simply deficiency but potentiality involved in all this. We feel the lack of something because we are made for it and/or have experienced it in the past. We feel its lack because we are indeed incomplete without it. Jaycee Dugard's tremendous loneliness was/is not only a result of the loss of certain people in her life, but comes from the loss of all kinds of relationships which would allow her to create a real future and share her life. {Prescinding for the moment from the extended abuse, torture, and dehumanization she experienced) her own loneliness and personal incompleteness is not merely the result of being snatched from those that really love her, but resulted from being taken from a context in which her life made sense and could be freely given to others. She was not allowed to be known by her own name, was never called by that name, and she was not even allowed to let her daughters know she was their mother!! (Again, and despite my caution regarding calling many things that are something else, "loneliness", I think it is important to realize that loneliness can name a kind of frustration or yearning that results from the inability or lack of opportunity to share ourselves and contribute as profoundly as we are called to do in and to the lives of others.) This may be part of a truly malignant loneliness (as it was in Ms Dugard's life) or it may be part of a simple loneliness at being unable to share something meaningful with a friend (as it can be with a hermit who chooses physical solitude).

I hope this helps answer your questions.