"Zacchaeus come down! I am dining with You Today!"

[[Hi Sister Laurel, your approach to Lent sounds complicated. How possible is it for people who don't live contemplative or eremitical lives?]]

Great question. I think the approach sounds more complicated than it actually is. While I am doing a lot of individual things they are meant to assist me to do one main thing, namely, to allow both my heart and my hermitage to be more truly places where God finds hospitality while I rest in God. If you think about having a guest visit you for Lent and making your house and your life ready for that guest, you might find a lot of things need doing (or need to be sacrificed), but really the focus of your efforts is simple: make your place theirs and put yourself at their disposal. If you have hosted this guest before you will probably know what s/he needs and desires from you. In that case you may simply need to improve a little here and there on the arrangements you have made in the past --- though you will also have learned more about yourself and your guest and will find ways to honor that in the present. In a sense that is really all I am doing and all I have really described in What Do You Do for Lent?.

Secondly the questioner for the post I put up lives in a parish where the triad prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are stressed. The same is true in my own, and in fact in the universal Church. This triad runs through all the readings we have throughout the season. My own preference is first of all not to see these as three separate or discrete things we might do but instead as three facets of every genuinely human life, one which is: 1) rooted in and open to God (prayer), 2) concerned with and committed to the really essential while letting go of the inessential --- especially if these latter things bind or make us unfree in some way (fasting), and which is 3) compassionate and generous to others (almsgiving). We are called to be people who receive our lives from God, detach ourselves from that which is inessential or less truly lifegiving to assist in providing both the inner and the outer space needed for both prayer and almsgiving, and go out to share what is lifegiving with others --- on whatever level that is needed. The penances we do during Lent are meant to awaken us to the promise and demands of these three dimensions as well as to make them more alive and real in us the rest of the year.


If you look again at the list of things I mentioned were involved in Lent this year you will see they all fall under things necessary to put my guest first, to be there for God, to really be a person in whom these three dimensions are real and integrated in eremitical terms. Since I do limited ministry it is sometimes easy to forget the purpose of the hermitage itself and to treat it as a merely private place where I relax apart from ministry or the place where I get ready to do ministry. Instead, the hermitage itself is a ministry both to God and in order to remind us all that every home is meant to be a place of hospitality to God and to those precious to God. Archbishop Vigneron referred to this in the homily he gave at my perpetual eremitical profession when he spoke of giving my home over to God. Of course there is great privacy here at Stillsong and relatively few people actually enter here, but even so it remains a quasi public place which is meant to witness to eremitical life and the meaning of the silence of solitude. The life within the hermitage is a relatively relaxed life but not a lax one and sometimes I have temporarily lost sight of this, either in anxious work, or in "just kicking back". I suspect this is often a challenge in contemplative houses and one the Rule and horarium help members to meet --- especially in Benedictinism. In my own case the solution, it seems to me, is a renewed focus on allowing God to find rest here in my home and in my heart while I truly rest in God. That is really what Lent seems to be for me this year.

For those not living in hermitages and not living contemplative lives I think some of the same approach can be adopted, whether with the Lenten triad itself, or in making of one's home (both heart and hearth) a place of hospitality to God and those who are precious to God (one will do so in ways which will involve the Lenten triad). Those who cannot seem to function without bringing work home with them and who, unfortunately, never really rest in the love of their families or create space where their families may rest in their love could certainly find a few things to do which would make life better all around. Those who come home from work, turn on the TV or computer and never spend real time with their families could do similarly. Those who rarely eat together or treat their homes as momentary pit stops along the route of real life could find ways to change this. (Mealtimes are an especially privileged time to be hospitable to God together.) Those for whom spirituality is compartmentalized and is thought to, "belong in Church but not here," could find ways to celebrate Lent which changes this misguided approach to reality (spirituality).

The bottom line questions for the hermit are, 1) are my heart and home places where God always finds a welcome and a place to rest while I find real rest in the heart of God? and 2) How do I allow that to be more and more true each day? It is certainly true that I am not worthy to have the Lord stay under my roof, but as was the case with Zacchaeus, Jesus has called out to me and said that he will be dining with me this day; I try to take that seriously every day I repeat the Centurion's response to Jesus' announcement, "O Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof. . ." but I am doing so in a renewed way this Lent. Given the frequency with which we each repeat the Centurion's response to Jesus (Matt 8:8) --- it is done at every Mass and is a summary of a sound Eucharistic spirituality --- I don't think the hermit's question is one which should be foreign to any Christian --- though I suspect it definitely is!

Naked Theology Blog and Modern Day Anchorites

[[Hi Sister, I read a piece from a blog called Naked Theology. It was about "modern day anchoresses" and featured you. The author's conclusion about you and your life was, "I find Sister Laurel interesting, but also interesting is the fact while she believes that she lives a life of a hermit, she is on the internet. I guess things have changed." The link is Naked Theology and Modern Day Anchoresses. I think the author doubts you are a hermit. Could you comment?]]

It's an interesting piece from several years ago. Thanks for sending it on to me.

As noted, anchorites ordinarily had a window on the world which allowed them to interact in significant ways with folks in their village, etc. They also often had a window on the altar of their church which allowed them to participate in Mas in the same way as the rest of their community. They were significant, often honored persons in their towns and served their neighbors in important ways -- whether as spiritual guides, counselors, and sometimes too, preachers of the Gospel. Because of this there were were guidelines on managing one's time and activities at the window and in the anchorhold and the same is true in my own life. Today our human village is a bit more global than was once the case while our lives in suburbia or in cities are actually more isolated from our neighbors than is healthy. My computer is a window on the church and world around me and the church and world I live my life in God for. Times have changed, but the hermit life is not really that different --- even with computers.  But of course real limits and care are required with this window --- as has always been the case.

Still, few hermits are actual recluses nor were they traditionally. Most of the Desert Fathers and Mothers seem not to have been. (It is a minority who went into the deep desert fleeing all contact. Most lived on the margins of inhabited areas and were sought out for various reasons.) Anchorites in the Middle ages were certainly not. Oftentimes religious figures (St Francis, St Peter Damian, et al) lived for a period in strict physical solitude and then spent time evangelizing (or in other ways of serving the church in a more active ministry), then returned again to strict solitude for a time, etc. We each find different ways to embody this basic spiritual rhythm of contemplation/ministry or prayer/fasting/almsgiving. This is part of the freedom and the flexibility of eremitical life so long as the essential element of "the silence of solitude" is lived with integrity.

Remember that physical solitude is only one dimension of eremitical life --- though it is certainly indispensable and a defining dimension. The same is true of physical silence.  The "silence of solitude" which is richer than mere physical silence and solitude (and a central element in canon 603), has more to do with communion with God and the heart which is formed by that than with isolation; it is a complex reality, and for that reason, as simple as a hermit's life is, it is also more complex than stereotypes allow. While I don't think this is true of the author of the blog mentioned above, too often folks hold stereotypes of anchorites and hermits when in fact, the picture was (and still is) more diverse or nuanced than they realize.

What Do you Do for Lent?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, would it be okay if I asked you what you do for Lent? In my parish we focus on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving and I try to do something I don't usually do. Like this year I am spending time helping in a soup kitchen. Your life is already one of "[assiduous] prayer and penance" and I guess you can't help in a soup kitchen so what do you do?]]

Hi there and thanks for your question. It is actually one I get asked most every year but I don't think I have ever really answered here.

Each year is a bit different and that is true this year as well. Let me say first of all that whatever I choose to do for Lent usually fits in an organic way with the rest of my life. It is rarely the case that something of our lives cannot be improved upon or more attention given to this or that aspect of our Christian commitment. In my own life there is no doubt that I can improve my prayer life, my life in the hermitage more generally, the way I approach parish commitments, the way I structure my time, my commitment to the values which are central to eremitical life, etc. My own preference for Lent, therefore, is not to do one disparate or disconnected thing (like saying extra prayers, giving up some food item, etc) but instead, to look at the entire scope of my life and renew the basic commitments which are part and parcel of that. When I do that a number of things may change, whether permanently as the fruit of discernment, or temporarily and experimentally as a means to this discernment. So let me start by describing some of the things which changed for me this Lent and then I will describe the bottom line which made those changes necessary.

This Lent I am primarily working through a process of discern-ment which allows me to get in touch in a fresh way with the really basic things God has called me to and to which I have publicly committed myself. I am doing this in a more focused and intense way than I would ordinarily be able to do the rest vof the year, and thanks to the assistance of my director (and my own readiness), in a more effective way than I might have done in other Lents.

In order to do this specific changes have needed to be made in a number of areas: 1) I am more reclusive than ordinarily which means I don't get to Mass as frequently, 2) I am working through a book my director gave me to assist me in doing this work better than I may have in the past, 3) I have withdrawn until Easter from an activity I do once a week outside the hermitage, 4) I have changed my daily schedule to some extent so that I get rest more frequently, 5) I am doing a bit more journaling than I ordinarily do, 6) I am" fasting" in a way which allows my diet to change permanently in order to address several different things (health, commitment to poverty or simplicity, maintaining an attitude of celebration during  meals, different demands on my energy, etc.), 7) The first four hours of my day have changed some in the way I approach prayer or the practice of vigil, 8) I have changed (or am changing) the schedule on which I see clients so that I see them during fewer days during any week and also in a way which leaves  more weeks entirely free of appointments, and 9) I have gone through the hermitage to get rid of old files, papers, clothes, books, etc that accumulate through the year but are really no longer necessary. It may sound like a lot of stuff, but it all fits together into a single Lenten project and purpose.

The bottom line in all of this is that I am living Lent in a way which allows me to really pay special attention to making a prayer of everything I do and therefore, of making my ordinary, everyday life extraordinary in Christ. I have written about this in the past so it is not a new idea. (Besides, it is a key element in Benedictine spirituality.) Alone we live ordinary lives. When we live those with God in a conscious way everything is transformed into something extraordinary. (For the hermit this is a major piece of distinguishing between merely living alone and living in solitude.) This sense that even the most ordinary of lives (or parts of our lives) can be made extraordinary if only we allow God to share in every moment and mood is one of the real gifts which hermits bring to the Church and world. In fact it is part of the charism or gift quality which the vocation represents. Even so, while this is not a new idea for me, nor a new undertaking exactly, what tends to be true is that in a kind of spiral pattern I periodically come to it anew and with a fresh sense of awe and appreciation. At each turn of the spiral I return to this foundational truth with a deeper awareness of, appreciation for, and commitment to it, a commitment which engages me in progressively deeper and more extensive ways. The real newness in Lent, it seems to me, comes not from doing new things (though one may also need to do that just as I outlined above), but in doing things with a renewed commitment, with a heart which is broken open just a bit further than it was yesterday, in a more thoroughgoing way than one has done until now.

You see,as I understand it, the prayer, fasting, almsgiving triad refers not merely to three discrete activities we do, but to three dimensions of a faithful and authentically human life. Most fundamentally such a life is open to and rooted in the dynamic presence of God within and around us. It is lived in and with God in a way which provides hospitality to God both in one's home and in one's heart. A life which is prayerful is a life which is hospitable to God and lived with the sense of God as an everpresent guest. Because of this accent on hospitality to God, an accent on living in and with God, a prayerful life necessarily entails fasting since fasting (which means fasting from more than just food) involves  a commitment to the really essential things in life while it eschews the inessential. (Fasting is the flip side of feasting and hospitality to God calls for both.) We will find we eat differently, rest differently, use our time differently, and so forth when the accent is on hospitality to God. This must be so if everything we live is to be a prayer just as it is the result when everything IS a prayer.

Finally, such a life is a generous one which reaches out to others with the riches we have received; almsgiving is a symbol or expression of this. We live our lives first of all with and for God, but to the extent we really do this we will find ourselves both free and motivated to give ourselves generously to others. We will find ourselves commissioned to go out to others in some significant way. To my mind then, almsgiving is another way of describing the missionary impulse which is intrinsic to God-as-Trinity and to any Christian life lived with, in, and for God. It is the very essence of Church. Your own choice of helping in a soup kitchen is an expression of this dimension of your life. A huge part of my Lent this year is meant to assist me in determining the shape of this missionary impulse in my own life and the concrete forms it will continue to take when I am faithful to my call to be a diocesan hermit.

Lent is a time the Church gives us to allow this kind of reorientation (conversion) in all the dimensions of our life. In my own it has far reaching consequences for the rest of the year. It is not that I forget my commitments nor the central elements of the eremitical life during the rest of the year, nor that I am unfaithful to these, but several times a year (Advent, Lent, retreats, desert days, etc.)  just like anyone else, I need to tweak things and get in deeper touch with these and the God who empowers them; at these times it means getting back in touch with the surprise and awe I experience at being called in the way I am.  It means renewing the sense that everything done with, in, and for God transforms the ordinary into the really extraordinary and makes of the little I can give something of infinite worth. During the year a lot can happen to knock us out of our own spiritual centeredness or cause a bit of a wobble in the orbit of our lives. It is also the case that we each  grow incrementally (a little at a time) so that in time (say the space of a year or of several years) we may need to stop and take stock of what that period of time has brought in terms of growth; we do this in order that we may embrace that in a conscious way.  Though we never really know how Lent will go or what God will do with this time in our lives, this Lent seems to be one of those for me and in this it is a real gift.

Miserere: We fall and get up, fall and get up. . .

This is one of my very favorite pieces, especially for Lent. I may have put it up here in past years. This miserere reminds us all that Lent is a time of conversion. In Benedictinism we are reminded that we fall and get up, fall and get up. In Christianity to be brought to our knees in repentance is to be raised to a profound dignity as human beings. Let us not be afraid or reluctant to be moved to our knees in this way. It is astounding how beautiful reality is from this position!

On Drawing Prayer Circles

[[Dear Sister, have you heard of the books referring to drawing a circle around one's biggest dreams or needs and then standing there until the prayer is answered? They are based on the Jewish legend of Honi who drew a circle and prayed for rain. He stayed inside the circle until it rained and it did! God answered Honi's Prayer! I just wondered what you thought of this approach to prayer.]]

Hi there. I have heard of the books and seen them advertised on Amazon, but I have not read them. The legend of Honi, however is one I am somewhat familiar with. Honi, a first century BC scholar who is sometimes called the "one who draws circles", was faced with the need for rain during a drought. He eventually drew a circle and announced to God that he was not going to move until God sent rain. It was Winter, the rainy season, when he did this. When a smattering of rain came Honi announced to God that that was not enough and reiterated his intention to remain there until there was real rain. There was a downpour and at this point Honi told God he wanted (or the people of Israel needed) a quieter, less destructive rain; he said he would continue to stay in the circle until God sent that instead. At this point there came a quieter rain which the ground could drink up and which would not be destructive because of flooding, mudslides, etc.

What is important to remember however are the two responses this action drew from Jews. Some excommunicated Honi because he had indeed blasphemed God by his actions. Others (a Queen) excused him saying he had a special relationship with God. There is ambiguity in the story and both wisdom and very real danger in the lessons we draw from it about prayer. Sometimes the line between the two is exceedingly fine; I personally believe Honi crossed the line despite also showing us some of the things necessary in a life of prayer and despite his special relationship with God. So let me say something about that and what I believe the author of these books on "drawing a circle of prayer" as well as what his readers must be cautious about.

The positive lessons on Prayer Honi gives us:

All prayer is meant to allow God the space to work in our lives. Under the impulse of the Holy Spirit we open our hearts to God so that God may enter those spaces, know us more profoundly (in the intimate Biblical sense), and accompany us in every moment and mood of our lives. That means opening ourselves in ways which reveal our deepest needs and dreams and doing so in a way which lets those dreams and needs be shaped, qualified, transformed, and answered by the presence of God and his own will or purposes. In other words we hold our dreams and needs open to God's transforming and fulfilling presence. We take them seriously; we claim and honor them, but we also hold them somewhat lightly because God's presence can cause us to reevaluate and even redefine these in light of his love and purposes. For instance, my own dream to become a teacher or to transform the world is rooted in gifts coming from a really profound place within me which I must hold onto and express, but I must also be open to the possibility that I am not going to be teaching in the ways I thought I might nor transforming the world in the way I dreamt I might. The Kingdom of God comes through our attentiveness to our deepest needs, gifts, and dreams; we must not ignore these, but at the same time, that Reign rarely looks like what we thought it might.

Drawing a circle around my desire to teach, etc, allows me to get and stay in touch with the profound gifts within me, while praying about this allows me to open these spaces to God and to collaborate with God in becoming the teacher (or whatever else) he may desire me to become. Standing in this circle allows me to remain trusting in God's love and determined that the best use of my gifts be made, but I am neither defining (drawing) nor standing in this circle in order that God might be "informed" about who I am, what I feel, dream, or need, nor that his will be shaped accordingly. I stand in such a circle so that I may consciously and faithfully bring these things to God and allow their potential and promise to be realized in ways I may not have even imagined myself. Drawing a circle of prayer makes sense to me because it requires 1) a conscious claiming of gifts, needs, dreams, etc, 2) a faithfulness and deep trust in their potential and in the power of God to bring all things to fullness or completion despite ostensible signs otherwise, and 3) a commitment to watch for the ways in which God brings things to fulfillment even when these are contrary to my own plans and conceptions. Drawing a circle of prayer makes sense to the degree it demands and facilitates attentiveness and perseverance in prayer.

The Negative or Dangerous Elements in Honi's Approach to Prayer:

However, as I say, it is my opinion that Honi crossed the line which the leadership of the Jewish People considered blasphemous and worthy of excommunication. He moved from persevering prayer to blackmail or extortion, and he did so by treating prayer and the drawing of a circle as a way of leveraging God. When I think of what Honi did with the circle it sounds a lot like a child saying to their Mother, "I want cake for dinner and I am going to lie here in the middle of the floor until you let me have that! Not only that (once mom pulls out the vanilla cake mix!), it had BETTER be a chocolate cake!" Despite the vast difference between this and what I described in the last section, the line between these two is often a very fine one indeed and we need to be very careful never to cross it!

Prayer is always about intimacy with God but it is not the intimacy of peers, much less of persons who can dictate to God what their needs are and the ways in which they expect these needs to be met. Honi crossed this line as well. He forgot that in prayer he was dealing with the Master of the Universe, the One whom he was called to serve  in persevering prayer, not one we can call on to serve us in a demanding and willful pseudo-piety. Perseverance is necessary in prayer, but stubbornness is a different matter. In prayer we do indeed open our hearts to God, but we do so in a way which allows our dreams and needs to accept the limitations of reality and shaped by that. We continue to hope, but the certainty of our hope allows a flexibility and demands docility as well; God's purposes and will always ultimately eventuate in a fulfillment of what we dream of and desire or need most deeply. We need to trust that that is the case even as we allow ourselves to be instructed in the fact that we cannot always see or imagine the how or the shape of this fulfillment. We do not EVER dictate terms to God. It seems to me that Honi forgot most of these things in his own prayer.

Similarly, it is important not to think that God is outside the circle. We must understand that drawing the circle of prayer circumscribes a space where God is intimately present with us in the very circumstances we ourselves are suffering. We draw the circle and say effectively that we will stand here WITH God and trust in his lifegiving presence despite all the difficulties and ridicule that may entail. Honi's actions seem very different to me than this. He seemed to be drawing a line in the sand (dust!) which separated himself from God and turned the situation into a "me vs God" struggle rather than allowing it to define Honi as an I-Thou covenantal reality. It is important in prayer to recognize that our truest needs and dreams are God's as well, and that we stand together as covenant partners committed to the unfolding and fulfillment of creation. Even so, this is never the same as allowing prayer to become a kind of martyrdom (witness) against a God who finally capitulates to our demands.

Further, we must take care that the drawing of prayer circles not be allowed to deteriorate into a kind of magical thinking where if we do x (e.g., draw a prayer circle around my child), then y (e.g., his safety) will be the result. One of the real dangers of the idea of drawing prayer circles is that we begin to think that we have done what we need and therefore the result is assured. While this is similar to the extorting-God mindset (in some ways it seems like a "kinder, gentler, version") it is as contrary to the true dynamics of authentic prayer as is the demanding, self-centered, blackmail version of things. Since the author of these books has a version for children it seems to me that parents need to be particularly cautious in being sure they do not contribute to notions of prayer that have more to do with magical thinking than with prayer. Children outgrow magical thinking but if it becomes codified in their approaches to prayer this becomes a huge obstacle to developing a mature spirituality later in life and it contributes to unnecessary disillusion with religion and the practice of prayer.

Risk and tension are always there in our Prayer:

Finally, it seems to me that the Legend of Honi the circle drawer reminds us that there is always risk and tension in our prayer. Prayer requires boldness and steadfastness which can easily deteriorate into presumption and stubbornness. It requires an intimacy that runs the risk of devolving or being distorted into actual blasphemy.  After all, it is one thing to say, "Here I stand, I can do no other" WITH and for God; it is quite another to do so as though God was simply another person on the parish council who needed to be convinced and prodded into action. And of course, negotiating this risky business and coming to trust that God brings good out of even the worst circumstances even when we cannot perceive this, is part of what it means to learn to pray and to live a prayer life.  As we mature in this we become better at a kind of "holy boldness" and an intimacy that is never presumptuous but which instead reminds us of Mary's part at the Wedding Feast of Cana. There she spoke directly, even boldly, to her Son about the needs of the host and she clearly knew her Son could do something about the situation. But Jesus drew limits as well and while Mary stood back a bit in light of these, she continued to trust in her Son and counseled others to do as he said. It seems to me that Mary's interactions with Jesus in that story are a more accurate image of the dynamics of prayer --- especially the "holy boldness"  required --- than Honi's legend itself manages to give us.

I hope this is helpful to you. You might also check out, On persistence in prayer and other posts linked to the labels found below.

Choose Life, Only That and Always. . . (Reprise)

When I was a very young sister, I pasted the following quotation into the front of my Bible. It was written by another Sister, and has been an important point of reference for me since then:

Choose life, only that and always,
and at whatever risk. . .
to let life leak out, to let it wear away by the mere
passage of time,
to withhold giving it and spending it
is to choose
nothing. (Sister H Kelly)

The readings from the Thursday after Ash Wednesday both deal with this theme, and each reminds us in its own way just how serious human life is --- and how truly perilous!! Both of them present our situation as one of life and death choices. There is nothing in the middle, no golden mean of accommodation, no place of neutrality in which we might take refuge -- or from which we can watch dispassionately without committing ourselves, no room for mediocrity (a middle way!) of any kind. On one hand lies genuine "success", on the other true failure. Both readings ask us to commit our whole selves to God in complete dependence or die. Both are clear that it is our very Selves that are at risk at every moment, but certainly at the present moment. And especially, both of them are concerned with responsive commitment of heart, mind, and body --- the "hearkening" we are each called to, and which the Scriptures calls "obedience."

The language of the Deuteronomist's sermon (Deut 30:15-20) is dramatic and uncompromising: [[ This day I set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendents shall live,. . . for if you turn away your hearts and will not listen. . .you will surely perish. . .]] Luke (Lk 9:22-25) recounts Jesus' language as equally dramatic and uncompromising: [[If you would be my disciples, then take up your cross daily (that is, take up the task of creating yourselves in complete cooperation with and responsiveness to God at every moment). . .If you seek to preserve your life [that is, if you choose self-preservation, if you refuse to risk to listen or to choose an ongoing responsiveness] you will lose it, but if you lose your life for my sake, you will save it. For what does it profit a person to gain the whole world and then lose or forfeit the very self s/he was created to be?]]


I think these readings set out the clear agenda of Lent, but more than that they set before us the agenda of our entire lives. Our lives are both task and challenge. We do not come into this world fully formed or even fully human. The process of creating the self we are CALLED to be is what we are to be about, and it is a deadly serious business. What both readings try to convey, the OT with its emphasis on Law (God's Word) and keeping that Law, and the Gospel with its emphasis on following the obedient Christ by taking up our lives day by day in response to the will of God, is the fact that moment by moment our very selves are created ONLY in dialogue with God (and in him through others, etc). The Law of Moses is the outer symbol of the law written in our hearts, the dialogue and covenant with God that forms the very core of who we truly are as relational selves. The cross of Christ is the symbol of one who responded so exhaustively and definitively to the Word of God, that he can literally be said to have embodied or incarnated it in a unique way. It is this kind of incarnation or embodiment our very selves are meant to be. We accept this task, this challenge --- and this privilege, or we forfeit our very selves.


God is speaking us at every moment, if only we would chose to listen and accept this gift of self AS GIFT! At the same time, both readings know that the human person is what Thomas Keating calls, "A LISTENING". Our TOTAL BEING, he says, IS A LISTENING. (eyes, ears, mind, heart, and even body) Our entire self is meant to hear and respond to the Word of God as it comes to us through and in the whole of created reality. To the degree we fail in this, to the extent we avoid the choices of an attentive and committed life, an obedient life, we will fail to become the selves we are called to be.

The purpose of Lent and Lenten practices is to help us PARE DOWN all the extraneous noise that comes to us in so many ways, and become more sensitive and responsive to the Word of God spoken in our hearts, and mediated to us by the world around us through heart, mind, and body. We fast so that we might become aware of, and open to, what we truly hunger for --- and of course what genuinely nourishes us. We make prayers of lament and supplication not only so we can become aware of our own deepest pain and woundedness and the healing God's presence brings, but so we can become aware of the profound pain and woundedness of our world and those around us, and then reach out to help heal them. And we do penance so our hearts may be readied for prayer and made receptive to the selfhood God bestows there. In every case, Lenten practice is meant to help us listen carefully and deeply, to live deliberately and responsively, and to make conscious, compassionate choices for life.


It is clear that the Sister who wrote the quote I pasted into my Bible all those years ago had been meditating on today's readings (or at least the one from Deuteronomy)! I still resonate with that quote. It still belongs at the front of my Bible eventhough the ink has bled through the contact paper protecting it, and the letters are fuzzy with age. Still, in light of today's readings I would change it slightly: to let life leak out, to let it wear away by the mere passage of time, to refuse to receive it anew moment by moment as God's gift, to withhold giving it and spending it is to refuse authentic selfhood and to choose DEATH instead.

Let us pray then that we each might be motivated and empowered to chose life, always and everywhere --- and at whatever risk or cost. God offers this to us and to our world at every moment --- if only we will ready ourselves in him, listen, and respond as we are called to!

Lenten Praxis

The year before last I posted the following idea during the latter part of Lent. This year I wanted to put it up in time for folks to use it for the whole of Lent if they desired. It was given to me by my Pastor.

 The idea is to choose 40 people who have been significant in your life and faith journey. Perhaps these are folks who have helped you "choose life." (If one has a smaller circle of significant friends and family, then one would list how ever many that really is.) Each of the 40 days of Lent one writes one of these people a note thanking them for who they are and what they have meant or do mean to you. (If your list is more modest, you could break the 40 days up and write notes at regular intervals.) During that day (or that period), you also pray for that person especially.

I would suggest that this might also work well for the season of Easter. We Fast during Lent in a variety of ways, but Easter is a time of feasting, and certainly more specifically of savoring the new life that is ours in Christ! One could take something of the same practice then and write the people who have given us life in all of the ways that occurs. I consider this a clearly Eucharistic practice because it is one of gratitude (eucharistein), but also because it embodies that gratitude in ways which can transform the world. It does so by allowing us to live from hearts that are more fully remade by our savoring of the love others have shown us and allowed us to give as well. To savor such love, to reflect on it and allow ourselves to be further nourished by it is surely Eucharistic at its roots.

My thanks to my pastor for such a wonderful idea. How ever you decide to adapt the practice, I hope you will give it a try yourselves!

The Silence of Solitude: Goal and Charism of the Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sr Laurel, I am trying to build more silence and solitude into my life so that I can become a hermit. You and canon 603 speak of the silence OF solitude though. What is the difference? Does this have to do with what you mean when you refer to having become a hermit in some essential way before contacting my diocese?]]

Relatively speaking I have written a lot in this blog about the silence of solitude as context, means and goal of the eremitical life. I have tried to convey how and why the phrase "the silence of solitude" an originally Carthusian term means so much more than silence AND solitude, especially merely external silence and solitude. Your question helps me build on the blog article I wrote a little while back on why my vocation is not the personification of selfishness. (cf, Notes From Stillsong, A Vocation to Selfishness?) Especially it lets me add  to what I have already said about this defining element of canon 603 and the charism of the vocation. Thank you for that. As your question notes, the silence of solitude is indeed a key to understanding what I mean when I say that someone must become a hermit in some essential way before approaching their diocese with a request to be admitted to a process of discernment, much less to public profession of eremitical vows.

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

The silence of solitude is what results when we are loved profoundly by God and are healed sufficiently to love ourselves, God, and all who are precious to God as well. When this is the case an individual stands silently alone with God, at peace, herself, free of  bondage or destructive enmeshment. She is herself but that self is a covenantal or dialogical Event with God as ground and counterpart because that is the very nature of the human self.

To understand this I think we might start by reflecting on the fact that eremitical solitude is a torment for the person who cannot love herself and therefore cannot trust or must continually contend with the inescapable love of God. Unfortunately, this is such a prevalent affliction, that the early Desert Fathers and Mothers battled demons --- usually the demons of their own hearts --- in a way which made doing so emblematic of desert spirituality. Every hermit I have ever read or spoken to knows that the torment of the hermitage stems from our own inability to love ourselves or exorcise the resultant demons of our own hearts. Whether we are speaking of the need for distractions, the inability to pray, actual violations of our vows, deviations from our Rule or excesses in penitential practices, bitterness and misanthropy, or even narcissism, the source is some form of discomfort with ourselves which, often, is a form of self-hatred. In such instances we are isolated or solitary, but the silence of solitude is far far from us.

On the other hand, every hermit I know, have read, or have spoken to, every hermit who is "the real deal" also knows in the depths of their souls that to the extent these battles have been won and their demons exorcised by the grace of God (that is, by the powerful presence of God in their lives), the silence of solitude is the result. One image of this reality comes back to me again and again. It was a picture I cut out during initial formation of two young girls sitting side by side on a curb. They were quiet, sitting in the sun, simply enjoying the brilliant day and each other and there was an aura of quiet joy about the picture; they were also sharing a Popsicle and one was handing it over to the other for her turn. For me this typifies "the silence of solitude" as well as does an image, say, of a person reading quietly or sitting silently and gratefully at a hermitage window while taking their noontime meal. In the hermit's case, however, the second young girl is God and more occasionally anyone who is precious to God.

When I speak of being a hermit in some essential sense then, I mean that one is a person who has, to some real extent, come to this quies or peace of heart marked by compassion, generosity, and relative selflessness. Further, they have been brought there by living a life of physical silence and solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, poverty and chastity, all geared to hearkening to the Word of God and they feel called to continue living in this way for the glory (revelation) of God and the salvation of others. Silence and solitude are elements contributing to a person's coming to and living out the silence OF solitude but it is the silence OF solitude which is especially characteristic of the eremitical life; it is the charism or gift hermits in particular bring to the Church and world. One may build  all kinds of silence and solitude in the physical and external senses into one's life, but it is the silence of solitude rooted in communion with God for the sake of others which is the goal and defining characteristic of the genuine hermit.

Is Pastoral just a code word for "feel-good theology"?

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, isn't it really the case that pastoral theology has more to do with making people feel good than it does with being faithful to doctrine and moral theology? Bishop D. Sanborn has remarked, accurately in my estimation, that when the supposed Pope Francis speaks of concerns being pastoral he really means that the Church will be more concerned with a feel-good "theology" than the truth of the faith. I know you won't admit this but isn't it the case that putting pastoral concerns first means putting truth second?]] (cf, The Revolution Speeds Up for the context in which these comments were made. Link supplied and added after this post was written.)

Thanks for your questions. When you speak of Bishop Sanborn I take it you are referring to the sedevacantist bishop, is that correct? I am not going to write a lengthy response here, not least because I don't think Bp Sanborn's conclusions (assuming you have quoted him accurately) merit them (if accurate, they are a caricature and are disingenuous and lack nuance and subtlety), but also because you have indicated ("I know you won't admit this. . .") your own question is somewhat less than an honest one. More importantly though, there is plenty of material available on Vatican II and what it meant in terms of pastoral theology or its demands that all theology be pastoral at its heart. If you really are interested you can read up. Similarly, Pope Francis' positions on the pastoral needs of the Church (and that the Church BE pastoral in the whole of its existence) are significantly more nuanced and demanding than the caricature Bp Sanborn proposed and you cited; these are available to anyone really interested in what is a more demanding and complex truth than the version referenced. Still, the question of the pastoral nature of all theology is one I raised very recently and it is an important one; it is for that reason I am responding briefly here.

I think a better notion of "pastoral" is something like, "putting the truth Christ embodied at the service of people, " or "making the Good News of the Gospel of God in Christ available to our world in both word and deed." In such notions truth is not sacrificed for some sort of merely feel-good theology; instead it is recognized that people need the truth and the power of making true which lives at the heart of the Church and her Gospel if they are to be truly human and live in the peace of God. This truth is not an abstract reality or end in itself but a servant of authentic humanity and the glory of God. It is truth embodied and expressed in the form of love -- love for God, for ourselves in Christ, and for all that are/is precious to God. Remember that God is truth and love; God is the source and ground of both of these. Pastoral theology is a theology which allows that God to address,  accompany, and empower those who need this God so they may be complete and, in fact, holy.

The greatest symbol of theology as essentially pastoral is the Incarnation. There the Word of God is enfleshed in a way which allows human beings to meet God with a human face and to be forever identified as "God-with (and for)-us." This messianic and salvific EVENT is the very definition and paradigm of pastoral theology --- a theology (speech about God) which also actually allows God to dwell with us in real and powerful ways. I don't see how we can speak of this as putting the truth second or being more concerned with a "feel-good theology". And yet, in the Christ Event God reveals himself exhaustively to people who need this event to really meet a God that heals, reconciles, and empowers.  This Christ Event is the model and climax of God's self emptying  --- a kenosis which is meant to meet human need (and in fact, the need of all creation) in the way all truly pastoral theology does. Note well that the truth is not sacrificed in such a theology; it is allowed instead to speak fully, to challenge, and to console persons in concrete historical circumstances. Further, one needs to ask if a theology is not pastoral at its very heart, then really, what good is it? Is God glorified by a theology which does not serve pastorally? Is he glorifed by a theology which fails to allow him to be "God-with (and for)-us"? Hardly.


Remember then, that Dogmas do not exist for their own sake. They are explicit summaries of divine truth in limited human language which allow us to come to a fuller faith, a more profound and complete trust in the God revealed in the Christ Event. Neither does the Church exist merely to enshrine some eternal principles or an abstract truth ABOUT God. Instead God's own life is a "for others" reality and Christians serve THAT truth, that way, and that life. Doing so, that is, making this God real and known in space and time is ALWAYS a pastoral project or it is an abject failure. The Scriptures remind us that, "They will know we are Christians by our love." Genuine love, the very heart of being Christian and itself always the result of God's grace, is itself quintessentially true and pastoral; it verifies or makes true that within us which is untrue and distorted and at the same time it makes us capable of loving. Can you imagine a love which is not essentially pastoral, which is not also aimed at others and at their increased well-being? Can you imagine a love which is like that of Jesus that is not also as challenging as it is consoling? I cannot and, from what I can tell,  neither can nor does Pope Francis.

Followup on God as Master Story Teller

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I wanted to thank you for your post on God as Master storyteller. Thank you also for linking it to other posts that refer to God as absolute future and to the idea that not everything that happens is the will of God but nothing is left outside his will. All these ideas are new to me but they make sense of events in my own life in a way other ideas have not. Have they done the same for you? I understand if that question is too personal but I felt I had to ask it. It seems to me that doing theology has to be driven by the effects it has in a theologian's life. If it is not then what good is it?]]

Thanks so much for your note. That particular piece God as Master Storyteller was important for me both profes-sionally (theolo-gically) and personally. While the ideas are not entirely new to me, and especially are not new in theology generally, as a result of the game the parish staff played at Halloween they came together with a clarity and power I had not appreciated as even possible before. Especially I think they help us to make an even clearer sense of the ways in which suffering and death (including both "big" and "little" deaths!) are real in our lives while maintaining hope that these will never have the last word or constitute a final silence. Similarly they help us to come to terms with an evolving universe which is still unfinished, which includes elements of randomness, and which, at the same time is the creation of a God who will one day be all in all. Despite this being contrary to the way NT writers and the Fathers of the Church conceived of things it is also consonant with the central dogmas of Christian faith while respecting the findings of contemporary science.

Let me say that this perspective did not make sense of aspects of my life precisely, but it did strengthen and deepen the sense I have come to know in light of God and my faith in the Christ Event.  Over the past 40 plus years I have had to let go of many dreams, hopes, interests, relationships,  and so forth because of chronic illness. And yet, at the same time I have always (eventually!) found God there redeeming the situation so that it had a very real future and continued to have genuine promise --- especially the promise that I would and could serve both God and his Church in significant ways in spite of and even IN and through chronic illness. As I have written here before that led me to embrace Paul's statement that, "God's grace is sufficient for us; God's power is perfected in weakness," as my profession motto; it is also the key to my really understanding Paul's position more generally that weakness is not only transformed into strength by some shift in perspective we ourselves accomplish, but that to the extent we can humbly embrace it as our own truth it IS strength because it is a true counterpart to the grace and power of God. However, it still left me grieving the things I had lost, believing that they were irretrievable. The perspective in the post you mentioned demanded I go far beyond that.

Events in my life this last year and the several preceding it have prepared for my own appreciation of the perspective presented in the post on God as Master Story teller. Not only have I been reading (or thinking) a lot in the areas of narrative theology, the nature and power of parables, and the relation of faith and science but, for instance, while on retreat in August I found all kinds of threads from my past being brought together in ways which assured me that nothing had been or would be lost.

Because I had expected never to have these threads returned to me in a way which allowed their promise to be fulfilled (or new promise realized), it was an incredible gift from God --- full of serendipity, awe, and consolation. This was a bit different than what I had experienced in the past, namely, that God could and would bring good out of evil, life out of death, meaning out of senselessness, and so forth. It included that insight but was a broader or more comprehensive vision of things as well. It reminded me of a prayer I have sometimes used during communion services that we can come to see the way God's providence encompasses even the worst that happens to us (poor paraphrase). Because of the reading I mentioned earlier it also reminded me of the perspective recounted in the work of John Haught, Ted Peters, et al., that treats God as absolute futurity working from "in front of" the story or drama of creation as well the way Jesus effects the coming of the Kingdom by cooperating with God and drawing us into the story which is God's own and which is God's own life.

So, these things and many others have prepared me for seeing God as the weaver of an immense narrative where the future comes to be at every second while no threads of the past are ever ultimately lost or dropped. The new piece of things was the game the St P's staff played at Halloween and my own abject failure at it. I was intrigued and frustrated as the game proceeded. I started many different narrative lines in my own head (being ninth in line allows and calls for that!) and had to abandon  most of them. At the same time I and everyone else had to create new narrative lines which allowed as many of the clues as possible to make an ultimate kind of sense; we had to continue to build on the work of those who preceded us and even (something which was much, much harder!) anticipate places for the clues (Halloween terms) others might also be seeking to use as they continued the narrative. My eventual solution was pretty awful and really desperate but it served to cement in my own mind the dynamics of the game and the immense demands of this way of telling a story. It stayed with me and focused my reflections --- even though I was mainly unaware that was the case.

But for instance, I could imagine God deciding to scrap the whole project and starting over (as he is said to have done with the story of Noah and the Flood) just as I could imagine him "taking a deep breath" and continuing his persistent storytelling/weaving until one day the finished "product" would be a creation where he was all in all. I could see clearly the immense risk God takes in loving and seeking to allow us to love or reject him freely (that is to weave our own narratives). I could begin to appreciate how constant and persistent his love must be for creation to continue, how patient and forgiving he must be to continually call us back to our places in the real story (GOD'S own story!), how immense his creativity and comprehensive his authority as well as how really important it is for each of us to commit to THIS same story and cooperate with God as love-in-act at every possible moment.

Many people commit to building an empire of sorts whether that be political, economic, academic, intellectual, domestic, or ecclesiastical. But each of us is really called to cooperate in the process of creation itself and in its completion or fulfillment in that reality we call the Kingdom of God; unfortunately, relatively few of us really do that. We are concerned with our own salvation and may certainly see an obligation to assist others, but participating with God in the fulfillment and completion of the drama of creation? Imagine coming from a position of chronic illness where weakness and incapacity are defining terms every day and discovering that embracing this truth meant being suited for Empire-building on an immensely, even inconceivably larger scale than I had ever thought about before! That is part of the fresh realization I came to because of the Halloween game and the work of contemporary theologians taking seriously what it means to be covenant partners with God and part of bringing an unfinished universe to fulfillment.

Theologians are passionate about their faith, of course; they are entrusted with this as a respon-sibility, but they are passionate because the theology they do mediates a message and presence to others which is ultimately healing and hope-filled. My major professor taught us right from the beginning that any theology worthy of the name is profoundly pastoral and he was completely correct in this. Similarly, in the Eastern Church theologians are recognized first of all as those who pray --- that is, they are not merely folks who are about some intellectual pursuit but are committed to the Life of God --- and committed to making this Life present and accessible to others both for their sake and for God's own. Just as physicians are concerned with science applied to lives in ways which heal, theologians are concerned with ultimate truth and mediating that in ways which heal and make sense of things more immediately. Of course the intellectual part of the theological enterprise is intriguing and even exhilarating (I can't describe the excitement I feel when reading some "hard-core" theology!), but  ultimately we do this for the Glory of God (that is, for making God known and personally present in every part of creation) and for the well-being of his creation (which is, at best, incomplete and distorted without God).

Again, thanks for your note. I am glad you found the post helpful. A number of other people found a related piece similarly helpful so that was all very gratifying to me.

Followup on Reserved and Preferential Seating at Mass

[[Dear Sister, thank you for answering my question on reserved seating for religious and other conse-crated persons. My interest came from reading a post which suggested Consecrated Virgins attending the renewal of ministers commitments as EEM's should either not attend or be seated with religious. The author was emphatic that they should not be seated with the laity who were renewing their commitments.  She also made the point that Religious and CV's did not need to make or renew such commitments since they were serving the Church and acting as an EEM was a part of this already. The link to this post is: Real Life Scenarios.]]

Ah, thanks for the link. I know this blog and have some fundamental disagreements with its author about the vocation she writes about.  Even bearing that in mind (for it and cultural differences in particular make me more cautious with my opinions), I'm afraid the entire story still makes me think of the presumption and squabbling that went on between some of the disciples regarding who would be seated at Christ's right hand and who at his left. (You recall the story. The Mother of James and John, Sons of Zebedee, asked if her Sons could occupy these privileged places and Jesus said it was not up to him to pronounce on this; that was God's purview alone.) It is precisely this kind of ambition and resultant squabbling that is encouraged by preferential seating: "If religious get preferential seating then CV's who are also consecrated should also have preferential seating, etc". (And of course there WILL be an etc in this as preferences within preferences establish themselves.)

Though I appreciate that it is entirely appropriate to be recognized within the church for the place one has in her life and ministry (something which is true for everyone, by the way), it also makes me wonder if those who argue for (or accept) preferential seating as a matter of course, etc, can really drink of the cup of kenosis, suffering, and humility that Jesus himself has offered all disciples. Jesus seemed especially to question whether his own disciples knew what was being asked for; the cup of privilege for the Christian is the cup of self-emptying. The idea, for instance, that a CV should simply not attend such a Mass rather than accept seating with the laity seems particularly wrongheaded to me. In the referenced blog piece the liturgy being described is a commissioning to ministry by the local Church, not merely a renewal of commitments; everyone has a part in such commissioning and in the reception of a minister's recommitment to this ministry. Surely a consecrated person with a public ecclesial vocation --- especially if they share in this ministry themselves --- is called to support and participate in such an action no matter where they are seated!

The author of the blog you are referring to raises some difficult and important questions then --- not least about the wisdom of routine preferential seating per se. Another of these, however, is the best way to gain recognition of the nature or essence of the vocation to consecrated virginity lived in the world in the given circumstances. Some might cogently argue that the CV's should be seated with the religious both because they are consecrated women and because they are not actually making a recommitment either. I don't agree. In part that is because I see elitism as counter productive to really being known and understood and in part it is because I understand a central piece of the vocation of the CV living in the world to be a prophetic call to all those living secular vocations to understand and accept that they are called to an exhaustive and eschatological holiness as well as to being a missionary presence in the midst of the world.

After all, this is the vocation of the Church herself and consecrated virgins living in the world exemplify it in a vivid way. Similarly, and this is my third reason, if religious misguidedly insist on (or accept) the anachronism of preferential seating, then someone has to begin to break down this barrier to unity; Consecrated virgins, it seems to me, might well be the ones to do so. It would be a particular service to the local and the universal Church in and for which they serve as icons. During special liturgies they might well wear the veil (and perhaps the garb) they wore at their consecration along with the wedding band they wear every day to mark their state of life, and they should probably request and continue to request that local clergy appropriately recognize their presence and service; but these things said, they should sit in the assembly with everyone else --- just as religious should. I don't see this as a betrayal of the public nature of the vocation, but an expression of it. It does, however, refuse to confuse notoriety or elitism with the vocation's public rights and obligations. It seems to me that this is also one of the things Pope Francis has been modeling for us so clearly.


While it will take time for the Church to fully recognize and appreciate canon 604 vocations a veiled (or not-so veiled) elitism will not help in this. Instead it can only encourage resistance to yet another vocation which suggests (or seems to suggest) that lay life is an "entry level" or second class vocation which is somehow inferior to vocations to the consecrated state. This would be a serious disservice to the Church and is what I referred to above as counterproductive. From my perspective what is needed, besides continued efforts to instruct clergy (and all they minister to) regarding the nature and charism of this vocation,  are consecrated women who live this vocation out by humbly bringing the special graces attached to their consecration to the very situation in which they live and are also  called to embrace --- namely, the everyday world.

It is true that vocationally speaking consecrated women and men are not lay persons, but hierarchically speaking unless they are clergy they ARE lay persons. Religious are not a third level of vocation standing between the laity and the priesthood. One of the graces I suspect CV's are called to bring to the Church is the grace which levels distinctions signifying differences in SOCIAL status. (N.B., This is NOT the same thing as differences in legal standing or "canonical status.") It is part of witnessing to a universal call to holiness, and, again from my perspective, is part of the mission and charism of CV's living in the world and committed to God in both the things of the spirit and the things of the world.

Preferential or Reserved Seating at Mass?

[[Dear Sister, does your parish or your diocese use reserved seating for religious? How about for visiting priests or other consecrated persons? If there was the renewal of a commitment to serve as an EEM, would your parish ask all those renewing their commitment to sit apart from the rest of the assembly? Do you have an opinion about this kind of practice?]]

What a surprising series of questions. I am curious about what prompts them for you! In any case, neither my parish nor others I know of in my diocese generally use reserved seating for religious, priests (i.e., for those who are not concelebrating), or other consecrated persons except of course in  special Masses (Ordinations, installations of Bishops) where all ordained are expected to be present, or in funeral, profession, or jubilee Masses for religious; in these cases members of the persons' congregations or the Presbyterate sit together and their seating is reserved. It is true that in our parish the first 2-3 pews are reserved for families and friends when a child is being baptized, for instance. For First Communions each child sits on the aisle of one pew and the rest of the pew is filled with immediate family and friends. (Each pew is marked with a banner with the child's name.) The rest of the assembly sits behind the section with the children and their families. However, in daily, Sunday, or otherwise normal Masses everyone including visiting priests (who are not concelebrating), deacons, and religious or other consecrated persons sit dispersed throughout the assembly as equally significant members of the Church by virtue of their baptism.


Renewal of commit-ments to serve as EEMs (or other ministries for that matter) are handled in my parish by calling all EEMs to come forward and stand together facing the altar. Every person who serves in this way, lay, consecrated, or religious, does this and renews their commitment in front of the entire assembly while the assembly prays for them as well. They then return to their original seats with friends, family, Sisters or Brothers, etc. Generally this means they are scattered throughout the assembly. I am unaware of any parishes in my area that reserve seating for religious or other consecrated persons as a matter of course though there tends to be an informal similarity with seating as folks take the same seats week after week and folks accede to this. This is not the same thing of course.

Past Practices:

In the late sixties (when I came into the Church) it was true that religious tended to sit together in groups and pews were reserved for them --- not least because they were seen to be separated from "the world" and did not mix with "seculars". It is also the case that in Masses using the extraordinary form religious are given preferential seating even today. Personally I despise the practice and believe it is unChristian. It treats those in the consecrated state as though they are more favored by God than the rest of the assembly and it makes the goal of true unity -- even within a single assembly -- impossible to achieve. Vatican II was very clear: the laity are NOT second or third class citizens in the Kingdom or in the Church and we should not be routinely giving preferential seating to those who are in the consecrated state of life because doing so is a betrayal of the truth of the Kingdom.  ALL are called to an exhaustive holiness and all are called to be disciples of Christ in a whole-hearted way. ALL have an equal place at the table of the Lord. In our parish ministers, who are there to serve and who are required at only one point in the service (EEMs, Lectors, etc) come forth from the assembly as a whole and return to it when their service is finished. (Some participate in the entrance procession and those serving throughout remain near at hand throughout.)

 Scriptural Lessons:

You may recall that in today's first reading James speaks compellingly of God showing no preference or partiality for persons and noted that if we do this we are guilty of sin. This position is emphasized in Romans as well. In these texts the immediate reference is to giving the wealthy priority over the poor, but remember that wealth was seen as a sign of God's favor in the society in general so it can be extended to imply we cannot treat persons as though one vocation is more favored over another. In the Church in Corinth this destructive, disedifying, and entirely worldly approach to persons and status led to the wealthy receiving Eucharist (or eating) before the poor. Paul denounced the entire practice as contrary to the will of God and the example of Jesus.

Meanwhile, throughout the Gospels we are told  that the Kingdom Jesus proclaims turns on its head our tendency to measure reality in terms of status and social distinctions. In a world where it was entirely inconceivable that the last should be first, or the poor should be privileged in any way, the Kingdom represents the inconceivable. It does not substitute a new social hierarchy for an old one but instead does away with social organizing on the basis of status. When Scriptural texts use paradoxical statements like the first will be last or blessed are the poor, we are speaking of something inconceivable, not setting up another hierarchy. In its place is a new equality based on love and unity which is rooted in the chosenness of Baptism.  Eucharist is the place where we celebrate this in a paradigmatic way; it simply does not allow for preferential seating of the kind you are asking about.

Reprises, Posts on Hell: Preparation for a New Post

As  a result of the piece I put up on God as Master Story teller weaving together all the disparate threads of the story of the Kingdom out of the myriad threads of our own individual stories, and indeed, the story of the entire cosmos, I received a question about how hell fits into this schema. I said I would write something about that in a few days and I want to try to do that. This post reprises what else I have written on the topic, especially on the descent of Jesus into hell and should serve as preparation for what else needs to be said in light of a Master storyteller that leaves no threads unimportant, forgotten or dropped. My next post on this will try to answer the question a lay hermit in Seattle asked.

Post #1 The Nature of Hell

The post I put up on whether religious vows are binding beyond death spoke of purgation as a way of bringing in the harvest of a life, and as a cleansing, or claiming --- where God's love summons all that is true and real and good in us and says "no" to or strips away whatever is distorted, unreal (merely potential), untrue or false. I also referred to a final or definitive choice we make at the moment of death when we says yes or no to God's own Self/Love. Ordinarily we have prepared for this final moment by every choice in our lives and so we affirm ourselves, our relationship with God and with the whole of creation, or we deny and reject these things --- this time finally and irrevocably. During our lives we have a chance to become truly human. To whatever extent we achieve this through the grace of God, that Self is welcomed into eternity. Purgation is a combination of the final choice we make for this, and the love of God which welcomes all that is real and true into his own heart while letting go of all that is unreal or merely potential, etc.

Because of this post I wanted to say something about hell. It is not a topic I usually write about or that fits in well here (I find the appearance of the article on this page absolutely jarring!) but a reader asked me to say something about it a while back and this is really the first sense I have had that it would link with other posts. So, what is hell in this whole understanding? First, many people consider that souls are immortal and that hell is simply the separation of the soul from God for all of eternity. This would make sense except that souls are only immortal insofar as God continues to breathe them forth. Souls (and of course we ourselves) are immortal because God's love for us is immortal and he will not forget us or leave us to decay! Because of this whether we are speaking about heaven or hell, so long as we are speaking of a form of existence, we must be speaking of the active and effective presence of God because God is the ground and source of all that is to whatever extent it is.

My own sense of hell then (and this is absolutely my own provisional sense, nothing more) is that it is a form of radically alienated existence where one is faced with a love one was but no longer is meant for and can never be human without, but which one has also rejected definitively. What is hellish then is the presence of God, the presence of love in conjunction with a fundamental untruth, emptiness, and even radical inhumanity of one's existence. Untruth and emptiness call for truth (or verification and making true) and fullness. Hell, I think is the state of existence of eternal and unfulfillable yearning (which now assumes the form of nagging regret and disappointment) coupled with the inchoate knowledge (guilt) that one has irrevocably rejected these things and the God who, even now loves and sustains one --- though wholly from without and in a way which says "No" to all the nothing one has chosen. The fire of God's love can be many things to us: consoling, awesome and even terrifying, empowering, painful, purifying, illuminating, blinding, warming, creative, destructive, and so on. We are made for this love and we experience it in all these ways as part of its power to unlock the potential of our lives, a bit like a forest fire unlocks the seed cones of a redwood and enables new life to spring forth. But what kind of experience is this fire when we have been emptied of true (realizable) potential and the fire cannot inspire awe, or console, or illuminate, or purify, or create??? This I think is the experience of hell.

Post #2 Jesus' Descent into Hell

The following piece was written for my parish bulletin for Palm Sunday. It is, therefore, necessarily brief but I hope it captures the heart of the credal article re Jesus' descent into Hell.


During Holy week we recall and celebrate the central events of our faith which reveal just how deep and incontrovertible is God's love for us. It is the climax of a story of "self-emptying" on God's part begun in creation and completed in the events of the cross. In Christ, and especially through his openness and responsiveness (i.e., his obedience) to the One he calls Abba, God enters exhaustively into every aspect of our human existence and in no way spares himself the cost of such solidarity. Here God is revealed as an unremitting Love which pursues us without pause or limit. Even our sinfulness cannot diminish or ultimately confound this love. Nothing – the gospel proclaims -- will keep God from embracing and bringing us “home” to Himself. As the Scriptures remind us, our God loves us with a love that is “stronger than death." It is a love from which, “Neither death nor life, nor powers nor principalities, nor heights nor depths, nor anything at all” can ultimately separate us!

It is only against this Scriptural background that we make sense of the article of the Apostles’ Creed known as Jesus’ “descent into hell”. Hell is, after all, not the creation of an offended God designed to punish us; it is a state of ultimate emptiness, inhumanity, loneliness, and lovelessness which is created, sustained, and exacerbated (made worse) by every choice we make to shut God out --- to live, and therefore to die, without Love itself. Hell is the fullest expression of the alienation which exists between human beings and God. As Benedict XVI writes, it is that “abyss of absolute loneliness” which “can no longer be penetrated by the word of another” and“into which love can no longer advance.” And yet, in Christ God himself will advance into this abyss and transform it with his presence. Through the sinful death of God’s Son, Love will become present even here.

To say that Christ died what the New Testament refers to as sinful, godless, “eternal”, or “second death” is to say that through his passion Jesus entered this abyss and bore the full weight of human isolation and Divine abandonment. In this abject loneliness and hopelessness --- a hell deeper than anyone has ever known before or will ever know again --- Christ, though completely powerless to act on his own, remains open and potentially responsive to God. This openness provides God with a way into this state or place from which he is otherwise excluded. In Christ godforsakenness becomes the good soil out of which the fullness of resurrection life springs. As a result, neither sin nor death will ever have the final word, or be a final silence! God will not and has not permitted it!

The credal article affirming Jesus’ descent into hell was born not from the church’s concern with the punishing wrath of God, but from her profound appreciation of the depth of God’s love for us and the lengths to which God would go to redeem us. What seems at first to be an unreservedly dark affirmation, meant mainly to terrify and chasten with foreboding, is instead the church's most paradoxical statement of the gospel of God’s prodigal love. It is a stark symbol of what it costs God to destroy that which separates us from Love and bring us to abundant Life. It says that forgiveness is not about God changing his mind about us – much less having his anger appeased or his honor restored through his Son’s suffering and death. Instead, it is God’s steadfast refusal to let the alienation of sin stand eternally. In reconciling us to himself, God asserts his Lordship precisely in refusing to allow enmity and alienation to remain as lasting realities in our lives or world.