05 January 2021

A Contemplative Moment: The Winter of Listening

 



The Winter of Listening
by David Whyte

"No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire,

what disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.

Even with the summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.

All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.

All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.

And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.

Silence and winter
has led me to that
otherness.

So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own."

From The House of Belonging

29 December 2020

Introducing "Junior", Stillsong's Resident Gargoyle

 [[Hi Sister, I was looking at the pictures of your hermitage and I wondered about the grey thing in the foreground of one of the pictures. What is it? I hope you had a good Christmas and a Happy New Year!!]]

I think you mean "Junior" a small gargoyle I have had now for more than 25 years. He was part of a duo of gargoyles --- Mother and Son and he was made to sit on his Mom's knee.  During that period I was fascinated with gargoyles and loved both the size and the "age" of Junior.

I bought him singly and was glad that was possible because the pair was just too expensive for me; he has lived on my desk or bookshelves for all these years since. As gargoyles go I think he is pretty adorable. Occasionally I have looked for his "Mom" to see if I could afford her now, but have been unable to locate her. (To be honest, given her size and the size of the two of them together I doubt I would  have a place for her/them, but I have looked nonetheless.)

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you too! I hope these holidays and all of the holidays within the octave of Christmas are fruitful for you. Junior sends you a friendly growl!

25 December 2020

Christmas at Stillsong 2020 (Reprise with tweaks)

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I don't think I could ever be a hermit. I like people and I like to talk too much! Is the silence and being alone all the time hard for you? What about during holidays? I guess you don't visit with your family or spend the holidays like most of us do. Do you get Christmas presents? Do you have Christmas dinner? I am in fifth grade. Thank you for answering my questions.]]

Hi there yourself, and thanks for your questions. I don't get a lot of them from students your age so it is terrific you decided to write. You know I also like people and I like to talk but it is true that I am an introvert. By that I mean that I am a person whose energy comes from quiet activities done alone more than from being with other people. I enjoy being with other people but it also tires me out and I need time alone to kind of recharge my "inner batteries." (The other kind of person is someone we call an extrovert, and they get their energy from being with people and even from partying; spending too much time alone is what leaves them feeling kind of wiped out or "needing others".) 

I know it is commonly thought that hermits never see other people, but during ordinary times I see friends at Mass during the week and on Sundays, and I also get together with one friend (a Dominican Sister) for coffee many Sundays after Mass. Christmas is a little different too. Of course, now that we are in the midst of a pandemic all that has changed and I am unable to go out much at all --- as is true of a lot of people! But I will catch up with people online (ZOOM), spend the day writing some emails to friends and family, and just generally celebrating my life in light of the Christmas feast. At the same time, even apart from the pandemic, I do spend most of my time during holidays in the silence and solitude of my hermitage.

Like many Catholics and other Christians I ordinarily spend some of the holiday time in Church --- more than usual anyway since the hermitage is like a "little church" or "ecclesiola". (I should point out that in the early Church all Christian homes were viewed this way and it is a critical perspective we need to recover and retain even after this pandemic.) I usually go to Mass late on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas morning. I watched a streamed Mass from my parish for Christmas Eve this year. Apart from this Christmas is like most other days though. I pray several times a day; I do some studying and reading as usual and usually I will do some writing. Today I may also watch a movie on Netflix or do something else I don't usually do. 

I am not lonely during Christmas as some people believe I must be. I think that is part of what you are asking when you wonder if the silence and solitude are hard during holidays. Remember that I am called  by God through his Church to live this vocation and that God does not call us to something which makes us unhappy. Not only is God here with me in everything, but I have the sense that I am meant to be living this. Also, folks send me cards and small presents so I have a strong sense of living the feast with these people. I sometimes think that one of the things which makes people lonely during the holidays is the thought that others are enjoying time with family and friends so somehow being alone --- even if one chooses it --- is not okay. They feel left out and even unloved; sometimes they may even think that having no place to go during Christmas is a sign there is no purpose to their lives or that they have failed as human beings.

But you see I know that I live alone (really, with God!) for an important reason. My life says to others (at least I really hope it does!) that even if we are alone God is there too and that Presence changes everything. It is one of the things we celebrate at Christmas -- that our God is Emmanuel or God-with-us in a very special sense. Our relationship with God is part of being truly human; in fact, it is the thing which makes us truly human. Because of that witnessing to this relationship is a very important mission for any human being. More, I know that God loves me without limit or condition and that when I answer love with the gift of my own self God is truly delighted --- just like your being present with your family delights them.  For these reasons the time I spend in solitude is not usually hard for me even during holidays like Christmas. If I were always thinking things like, "I should be with family" or "I should not be alone; it's not right," then I might make myself feel really empty and miserable. Instead I celebrate what Christmas is all about with the One who made it possible 2000 years ago and who makes it real now in my own life too --- just as I am called to do.

Do I get Christmas presents? Yes, as I noted briefly above, I do. This year I am especially aware that my life is the greatest present I could be given; I celebrated that yesterday as I met with my Director and it is something I am journaling about as well. One of the things I love about Christmas is that God reveals himself in all of our stories as someone who brings life out of barrenness (like he did with Elizabeth) or where God makes people who have been frightened, grieving, or were mute into people whose lives are songs of great meaning and joy (like we hear about with Zechariah or Mary)! But I also get Christmas presents in the sense you mean. Those come from friends, family, and even from my parish or organizations in the parish. One gift this year was a small oil lamp with Christmas greenery inside it. It is really lovely and goes well with Christmas decorations. 

I hope I have answered your questions. Please feel free to write again if you have other questions or if I was not very clear about something. It is refreshing to hear from a fifth grader! Have a terrific Christmas season and a happy New Year too. All my best. 

20 December 2020

Fourth Sunday of Advent: Vulnerability by David Whyte (Reprised)

Throughout the Gospel of Mark Jesus' invariable title for himself is Son of Man which can be translated as "Son of Humanity" or even "the Human One". One of the things Mark is concerned to show his readers is that Jesus reveals the nature of authentic humanity. Jesus is the One in whom humanity is exhaustively transparent to God. This is one way of seeing how it is he can reveal both the nature of humanity and divinity at the same time. At the heart of this double and paradoxical revelation  stands the critical and peculiar openness to God and to all God wills which we know as obedience and also, a radical vulnerability.  We see this in the creche and we see the same openness in the events of the cross. One of the most wonderful pieces I have read on the nature of vulnerability and its centrality to authentic humanity is the following piece by David Whyte:

[[Vulnerability is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without, vulnerability is the underlying, ever present abiding undercurrent of our natural state. To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence of our nature, the attempt to be invulnerable is the vain attempt to become someone we are not and most especially, to close off our understanding of the grief of others. More seriously, in refusing our vulnerability we refuse the help needed at every turn of our existence and immobilize the essential, tidal and conversational foundations of our identity.

To have a temporary, isolated sense of power over all events and circumstances, is a lovely illusionary privilege and perhaps the prime and most beautifully constructed conceit of being human and especially of being youthfully human, but it is a privilege that must be surrendered with that same youth, with ill health, with accident, with the loss of loved ones who do not share our untouchable powers; powers eventually and most emphatically given up as we approach our last breath.

The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit our vulnerability, how we become larger and more courageous and more compassionate through our intimacy with disappearance, our choice is to inhabit vulnerability as generous citizens of loss, robustly and fully, or conversely, as misers and complainers, reluctant and fearful , always at the gates of existence, but never bravely and completely attempting to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never walking fully through the door. (from Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment, and Underlying Meaning of everyday Words)]]

In Christ authentic humanity becomes a reality in our world and in him it becomes a possibility for us as well. It is truly a humanity which does not "fall short" of the dignity to which we are called by God. (Remember hamartia which is translated "sin," literally means, "to miss the mark" and the mark we actually miss is, as noted in recent posts, that of realizing our call to be imago dei and becoming imago christi.) The birth of Jesus marks the coming of this new possibility into our world. As we approach the Feast of the Nativity may we each recommit ourselves to the vulnerability which allows us not only to say yes to God in the way Mary did, but also to grow in the grace and stature of an authentic and self-emptying humanity as did Jesus. 

Best wishes and prayers for a wonderful last week of Advent and a fruitful Christmas! Sister Laurel, Er Dio.

14 December 2020

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

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

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

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

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

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

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

Rejoice heartily in the LORD,
in God is the joy of (our) soul;
for he has clothed (us) with a robe of salvation
and wrapped (us) in a mantle of justice,
like a bridegroom adorned with a diadem,
like a bride bedecked with her jewels.

12 December 2020

Our Lady of Guadalupe: Believing in a God Who Lifts Up the Lowly (Reprise)

 Fifty years ago at Vatican II the messiest, most passionate, and often "dirtiest" fighting to occur during the council took place during discussions of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium. Out of nearly 2400 bishops the fight was divided almost exactly evenly between two factions, those nicknamed the maximalists and those nicknamed the minimalists. Both factions were concerned with honoring the greatness of Mary in our faith but their strategies in this were very different from one another. The maximalists wanted the council to declare Mary Mediatrix of all Graces and to proclaim this as a new dogma in the Church --- never mind that the thrust of the Council was not toward the definition of new dogmas. They wanted the council to write a separate document on Mary, one which effectively made her superior to the Church.


The minimalists also wanted to honor Mary, but they wanted to do so by speaking of her within the document on the Church. They desired a more Scriptural approach to the person and place of Mary which honored the dogmatic truth that Christ is the One unique Mediator between God and mankind. The Church would be spoken of as Mother and Virgin, for instance, and Mary would be seen as a type of the Church.

The minimalist position won the day (had only 20 Bishops voted differently it would have been another matter) and so, in Lumen Gentium after the Church Fathers wrote about the Mystery of the Church, Church as People of God, the hierarchical nature of the Church, the Laity, the universal call to holiness, Religious, and the Church as a Pilgrim people, they wrote eloquently about Our Lady in chapter VIII. Mary is highly honored in this Constitution --- as it says in today's responsorial psalm, she is, after all, "the highest honor of our race", but for this very reason the Church Fathers spoke of her clearly as  within the Church, within the Communion of Saints, within the Pilgrim People of God, not as a rival to Christ or part of the Godhead, but as one who serves God in Christ as a model of faithfulness.

It is always difficult, I think, to believe and honor the Christmas truth we are preparing during Advent to celebrate, namely, that our God is most fully revealed to us in the ordinary things of life. We are a Sacramental faith rooted in the God who, for instance, comes to us himself in bread and wine, cleanses and recreates us entirely with water,  and strengthens and heals us with oil. Especially at this time of the liturgical year we are challenged to remember and celebrate the God who turns a human face to us, who comes to us in weakness, lowliness and even a kind of dependence on the "yes" we are invited to say, the One who is made most fully real and exhaustively known in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Advent is a time when we prepare ourselves to see the very face of God in the poor, the broken, the helpless, and those without status of any kind. After all, that is what the Christmas Feast of the Nativity is all about.

I think this is one of the lessons today's Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe teaches most vividly. We all know the more superficial story. Briefly, in 1531 Juan Diego, an Indian Christian encountered a beautiful Lady on the hill of Tepeyac; she told him to ask the Bishop to build a church there. The Bishop refused and required a sign of the authenticity of Juan Diego's vision. Diego returned home to find his uncle dying. He set out again to fetch a doctor and avoided the hill where he had first met the woman and went around it instead --- he did not want to be distracted from his mission! But the Lady came down to him, heard his story about his uncle, reassured him his uncle would be well, and told him then to go to the top of the hill and pick the flowers he found there. Diego did so, gathered them in his tilma or mantle, and went again to the Bishop. Juan poured out his story to him and he also poured the flowers out onto the floor. Only then did he and the Bishop see a miraculous image of the Lady of Tepeyac hill there on the tilma itself.

But there was a deeper story. Remember that Juan Diego's people were an essen-tially subjugated people. The faith they were forced to adopt by missionaries was geared toward the salvation of souls but not to what we would recognize as the redemption of persons or the conversion and transformation of oppressive structures and institutions. It was more a faith enforced by fear than love, one whose whose central figure was a man crucified because an infinitely offended God purportedly willed it in payment for our sins. Meanwhile the symbols of that faith, its central figures, leaders and saints, were visibly European; they spoke and were worshipped in European languages, were dressed in European clothes, were portrayed with European features, etc. At best it was hard to relate to; it's loving God was apparently contradictory and remote. At worst it was incomprehensible and dehumanizing. Moreover, with the "evangelizers" who had forcibly deprived the Indians of their own gods and religion came diseases the Indians had never experienced. They were dying of plagues formerly unknown to them, working as slaves for the institutional and patriarchal  Church, and had been deprived of the human dignity they had formerly known.

It was into this situation that Mary directly entered when she appeared on Tepeyak hill, the center of the indigenous peoples' worship of the goddess Tonantzin, the "goddess of sustenance". The image of the Lady was remarkable in so many ways. The fact of it, of course, was a marvel (as were the healing of Diego's uncle, the December roses Diego picked and poured out onto the Bishop's floor or the creation and persistence of her image on Diego's tilma), but even more so was the fact that she had the face of a mixed race (Indian or Mestiza) woman, spoke in Diego's own language, was pregnant, and was dressed in native dress. And here was the greatest miracle associated with OL of Guadalupe: in every way through this appearance the grace of God gave dignity to the Indian people. They were no longer third or fourth class people but persons who could truly believe they genuinely imaged the Christian God. The appearance was the beginning of a new Church in the Americas, no longer a merely European Church, but one where Mary's Magnificat was re-enacted so that ALL were called to truly image God and proclaim the Gospel. One commentator wrote that, [[Juan Diego and millions after him are transformed from crushed, self-defacing and silenced persons into confident, self-assured and joyful messengers and artisans of God's plan for America.]] (Virgilio Elizondo, Guadalupe and the New Evangelization)

Here too then, in the truly unexpected and even unacceptable place, our God turns a human face to those seeking him. He comes to us in weakness and lowliness as one of the truly marginalized. In the process we see clearly once again the God of Jesus Christ who scatters the proud in their conceit, unseats the mighty from their positions of power, and lifts up the lowly. During this season of Advent Our Lady of Guadalupe calls us especially to be watchful. God is working to do this new and powerful thing among us --- just as he did in the 1st Century, just as he did in the 16th, just as he always does when we give him our own fiat.

06 December 2020

Second Sunday of Advent: Embracing Sabbath and the "Way" of Jesus

Over the last three or four weeks I have been working on or giving presentations for a Women In Faith group in my parish. It dealt with our foundational vocation to become authentically human and the ability to be free and rest that our embrace of such a vocation results in.  I have the concluding half of all of this to do on Tuesday and so, it has been on my mind. Specifically, I will do a presentation on Sabbath as the "great equalizer", the day (period) when, in  God, we embrace the identity God gives and calls us to and allow ourselves to truly rest from all those "'essential' roles and burdens" the world defines us in terms of. On Sabbath we let go of competitiveness, workaholism, consumerism, and so many other ways in which we are set against our true selves and one another and we simply rest in who we are in God. The title for the second part of the presentations will be "Be still and know that I am God" from psalm 46:10. The title for the first half of the presentations reverses this to, "Know that I am God and be still". The two are inextricable from one another and together they present a symbol of the freedom of authentic humanity.

Additionally, last Sunday as part of the first Sunday of Advent I prayed with the ecclesial community of a couple of friends of mine who celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary during the week and who renewed their vows last Sunday. As part of the celebration they asked me if I wanted to renew my own vows and I did. As part of  doing that I had to compose a renewal formula which led me to thinking once again about  the term "stricter separation from the world" and how I would say that for a community who would be likely to misunderstand the canonical phrase in terms of a rejection of God's good creation. I borrowed the  overall structure of the formula from that of the Sisters of the Holy Family, and for the c 603 elements of my commitment, including "stricter separation from the world," I promised to: "devote myself to the service of God and all God holds precious in stricter separation from anything resistant or antithetical to God's love, in the silence of solitude, and in assiduous prayer and penance."

In both of these activities what canon 603 calls "stricter separation from the world" played an important role. Sabbath itself is a way of  standing aside from "the world" which often holds us bound by its values and perspectives, its way of viewing God, ourselves, and others, while making commodities of them (cf., Walter Brueggemann, Sabbath as Resistance); it is a way of resting in God and both being and becoming the ones we are called to be in God. It is a symbol of freedom and is given to us as gift and responsibility in the Decalogue, the charter of freedom and covenant in the OT. but this freedom plays off against the bondage of something canon 603 calls "the world" --- again, that which is resistant or antithetical to God's love.

Pharaoh's Egypt was, for Israel, the very epitome of "the world" canon 603 calls me to separate myself from more strictly. The Jewish people were made to toil endlessly without even time to pray or worship. When they sought the time and space to worship their God, they were punished and the toil they were made subject to became even more demanding, even less fulfillable, and even more dehumanizing. Hours were long, food and time for rest short. Relationships deteriorated as did the Jews' own sense of their own dignity. Their behavior likewise deteriorated then and they fell into the kinds of things we expect among the dehumanized and starving: unhealthy competitiveness, theft, covetousness, dishonesty, murder, the failure to honor one's inheritance as one born with infinite dignity or to honor others in the same way, etc. In short, this bondage and dehumanization marked by endless toil and insufficiency was incapable of putting God first, resting in God's love, and loving oneself and others in God as a natural consequence. Israel became bond to an ethic of idolatry (for this was the Pharaoh's system and Pharaoh was a divine figure) and dehumanization --- an ethic resistant and even antithetical to God's love. (These two elements, idolatry and dehumanization, always go together.)

What I recognized is that quite often today we buy into the same bondage and the same forms of dehumanization. We buy into "the world" and in fact, we build that same "world"  and our own self-definition upon it. We do this in the form of a system that makes commodities of us all--- objects which can be bought and sold, used and disposed of as easily as one would do to a shirt or pair of pants. We become workaholics whose value is tied up with what we do rather than who we are, or shopaholics who fail to be in touch with the really new (kainetes) God is doing in our lives every day and substitute the merely new in time (neos) --- something which has to be replaced almost as soon as we have purchased it, or we become those who treat others in the same way through competitiveness, elitism, classism, an unhealthy capitalism, etc etc. What we are called to instead is the way of Jesus, the way of the Kingdom of God, the way which honors and delights in God's good creation but is also the world of Sabbath and the Ten Commandments, the world of the Great Commandment -- that is, the world of the love of God and all that God holds precious.

When I renewed my vows to live as a diocesan hermit under canon 603 last weekend, it was the all-too-common  but destructive meaning of "the world" I rejected and the "way of Jesus" I embraced again more intensely. As we enter more fully into Advent what I want to suggest is that this is the same commitment the Church and God are asking of each us --- not as hermits perhaps, but as those who recognize the Kingdom of God in our midst at the same time. I would encourage you to look carefully just as I am doing, at the way the canon 603 sense of "the world" plays a defining role in your own life, and that you build in real Sabbath rest where you allow yourself to rest in God and be just who he had made and calls you to be.  

Separate yourself more strictly from that false and idolatrous world. Let go of the consumerism, competition, division, striving to achieve (including religious striving(!),  and all of the other "-isms" that so represent the idols of our day, and try to do this in a focused or dedicated way for at least one entire day each week. After all, this is what the fourth commandment requires of us. Reject Pharaoh's ethic of ceaseless toil and embrace Jesus' ethic of God's gratuitous (and ultimately unearnable) love. Embrace "the great equalizer" of Sabbath which allows everyone and everything to rest and be the ones God calls them to be, the world of  genuine respect for all of creation, and of loving collaboration and unity in the Love of God.  I believe it will change the season for you and help it be what it is meant to be, but also, over time, it can change family life, life in our faith communities, and even the larger world in which we live.

25 November 2020

Reappraising the Disciples' Failure to "Get it"

 I've been teaching a class on the Gospel of Mark and in many ways it has been a marvelous experience.  Though this gospel was the first I ever studied, and while I have always loved it, it is simply amazing to come away with a greater appreciation of the brilliance of Mark's literary and theological ability. One aspect of the story is the disciples' well-known and oft-ridiculed failure to "get it". Again and again they fail to understand the truth which stands right in front of them. Even after numerous private sessions with Jesus re his mentoring on the nature of the Kingdom, the reason for teaching in parables, his eschewing the usual titles associated with the Messiah in preference for  the "Son of Man" (the Human Being), and his explanations re his need to suffer, still his disciples fail to understand; they resist, reject, argue, and are sometimes simply mute in response to this Jesus who is a riddle as puzzling (and sometimes as intimidating) to them as his parables are.

I can't say how many times I have heard homilists poking fun at the disciples for their failure to "get it". I have done it myself. Peter especially comes in for such treatment. But what I have never heard is a homily which points out their failure to get it is, in some ways, an essential part of their discipleship. After all, when we look at how radically countercultural Jesus is and how he differs from the messianic expectations of the Judaisms of his day how can we be surprised by his disciples' "obtuseness"? 

Moreover, when we remember that Jesus is revealing (i.e., not only making known but making real in space and time) the Mystery of a Creator God whose very nature is Love-in-Act, a paradoxical God whose justice is realized in mercy, whose power is revealed in human weakness and subjection to death, whose sovereignty finds its truest counterpart in human freedom, and who is truly loved when we allow Him to love us unreservedly, how can we be surprised that Jesus' disciples just "don't get it?" Most of the time we don't either --- loath though we are to admit this!! I suspect we sometimes point fingers at the disciples' failures and incomprehension to distract us from having to admit our own --- though perhaps doing so also encourages us to humility instead!

What I have come to appreciate over these past weeks is that the disciples' failure to understand the mystery Jesus represents and mediates is intrinsic to discipleship itself --- at least it is if we are disciples of the real God. It finds its counterpart in the disciples' commitment to keep on following Jesus despite their confusion, doubt, and even the failures that constantly attend their journeys of faith. Both pieces are essential to genuine discipleship, 1) the struggle to understand and embrace the mystery Jesus mediates, and 2) the commitment to persevere in following Jesus in the midst of one's inability to see things clearly! 

I think this is the same dynamic at work in the father of the epileptic boy's reply, "Lord I believe, help my unbelief!" --- an act of faith some consider the finest or "most perfect" in the NT. It is when we reduce Jesus' question which is the very center of his Gospel, "Who do you say that I am?" to a kind of pro forma catechism question which is matched by an equally bloodless doctrinal or catechism answer that we also opt out of the demanding call to follow Jesus. If we take this question seriously, however, it is one we will never finish answering; similarly, it is one we can never answer adequately, much less exhaustively except by persevering in a faithful life which is itself the only fitting response.
                                             
                                             * * * * * * * * *

I am probably not done with this piece, and I know it is not done with me (that is, God is certainly not done with me nor is Mark!), However, I have heard from several people who have worried a bit that I have not written much in the last month so I will at least put this much up this morning and redact it as I need to. In the meantime, please know I am very well.  Please stay safe and keep others safe as well. For all in the US, Happy Thanksgiving; in some ways we have new reasons to cherish this fragile but very real democratic republic. May all of us, from whatever country, accept the need for solitude and the possibility of celebrating "together alone" during this pandemic. That is certainly something eremitical life witnesses to!!

03 November 2020

Thanks and Why Did You Reprise the Piece on Solace?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I wanted to thank you for the piece you put up yesterday by David Whyte. It is really wonderful and I missed it the first time you put it up several years ago. (Maybe I didn't miss it and it didn't really speak to me then, but it did this time!) I know this is a personal question but do you mind telling readers why you put it up again? I don't think you have done that with your "Contemplative Moment" posts so it piqued my curiosity. Is it because of the pandemic? Did you think this was particularly meaningful at this time because of the suffering the world is experiencing? I thought maybe the reason it spoke to me this time was because I really needed consolation that did justice to my own suffering and this piece did that. Sometimes what you write makes me think you know me and just what I need! I am going to get David Whyte's book!]]

Many thanks for your comments and questions. Yes, David Whyte is a really wonderful writer and what he has to say is rooted in a deep wisdom which is only gained through experience. I think you will love his book; I have posted several passages (definitions) from it over the years and it confirms for me that quite often we need to spend more time thinking about the words we use too blithely or facilely. Consolation (and/or solace) are among these. 

For instance, in spirituality people speak of experiencing consolations and usually they mean by that that somehow God did something "pleasant" or pleasurable for them in prayer, and sometimes they will mean that something that happened in prayer eased their pain and made them feel better. Thus, they will speak of "sweet consolations" and play these off against "bitter desolations" --- where desolations are unpleasant and, at least momentarily, make one feel worse. But in Ignatian spirituality these words are not so easily defined in this sort of black and white way. Instead, what Ignatius meant by a consolation was anything that helps us grow closer to God (and our deepest selves), and desolation is anything which does the opposite. A consolation in this sense might be immensely painful; it might entail serious struggle and various lesser forms of death (or even death itself), while a desolation might be deceptively pleasant when in reality it draws us away from God, and so, away from the very source of life and meaning which is the ground of real happiness or beatitude. David Whyte's piece on solace understands the complex dynamics of these words and captures them very very well.

So why did I reprise this piece? In the Scripture class I am teaching on the Gospel of Mark we had finished the first half of the Gospel, the portion that includes Jesus' non-stop "campaign" through Galilee and environs, his seemingly unceasing miracles, exorcisms, teaching, and his calling and missioning of his disciples/Apostles. This is the story Mark tells in a breathless way, much as an excited 4 year old might recount the story of Christmas morning or a beginning writer just discovering conjunctions might link sentences together with "and" after "and" after "and". This section concludes with Jesus' transfiguration and Peter's compromised profession of Jesus as the Christ or anointed One of God and Jesus' instruction on his death. As Jesus and his disciples move towards Jerusalem and the cross, the first story of the second half of the Gospel (Mark 9:14-29) is Jesus' last recounted exorcism, the healing of the boy with epilepsy which occurs against the backdrop of the disciples' failure to do this and the boy's Father's request to Jesus to heal his son if he can. 

I have never taught this story before and, because of my own seizure disorder, it has always been a difficult one for me. I have tended not to spend a lot of time with it, but now I had to teach it and that meant understanding the story in terms of Mark's Gospel, why it is placed where it is in the text, and attending to what Jesus says about the disciples' failure and the place of prayer in the successful healing. As part of this I especially had to be ready to deal with my own identity as a woman of prayer and the importance of suffering in discipleship (because of the story's context); I needed to do this in light of my own struggles with continued seizures.  Consequently, I spent more than two weeks with the story, reading commentaries, journaling, praying with it (lectio, etc.), and using a couple of sessions with my spiritual director to explore all of this and particularly the way the story affected me. Central to this period was recognizing and articulating the questions characterizing my own struggle to be myself in the face of competing gifts and limitations. Especially I had to pose some sharp questions to God, questions I had never specifically asked Him (unlike the exchange that occurs in the dialog between Jesus and the blind man in the story of the healing of Bartimaeus which ends the section in Mark 10:46-52!!); the process was both incredibly painful and healing for me. Thus, the following paragraph was timely and particularly powerful:

To look for solace is to learn to ask fiercer and more exquisitely pointed questions, questions that reshape  our identities and our bodies and our relation to others. Standing in loss but not overwhelmed by it we become useful and generous and compassionate and even amusing companions for others. But solace also asks us very direct and forceful questions. Firstly, how will you bear the inevitable that is coming to you? And how will you endure it through the years? And above all, how will you shape a life equal to and as beautiful and as astonishing as a world that can birth you, bring you into the light, and then just as you are beginning to understand it, take you away?

A second reason had to do with several conversations I had with a writer for the New York Times. (More about this later.) We were talking about eremitical life and the place of solitude in a truly human life, but also, yes, there were links to the pandemic and the added dimensions of solitude so frequently forced upon people as a result. Especially, we were talking about what is possible and necessary then with regard to solitude, not only for hermits, but for every human being. I had written some about the place of struggle and even of suffering in growing in one's capacity for compassion and had cited Douglas John Hall's God and Human Suffering where he says: 

[[The question therefore becomes: How can one at the same time acquire sufficient honesty about what needs to be faced, and sufficient hope that facing it would make a difference, to engage in altering the course of our present world towards life and not death?]] a page later he observes that acknowledging suffering is not enough. What is also required is [[ the trust that something --- the life process or Providence or God --- something “enduring,” as Isaiah put it, is able to take into itself all that does not endure, even things that are not, and give them a future that infinitely transcends the bleak promise of their past.]] 

Eremitical solitude combines all the elements needed for sufficient honesty about "what needs to be faced" with a defining orientation to God and God's Providence; together these provide significant hope in the midst of suffering in a way which is profoundly consoling. Above all I recognize my own eremitical life as motivated by the desire and sense of a call that, by virtue of the grace of God, can [[shape a life equal to and as beautiful and as astonishing as a world that can birth (me), and bring (me) into the light.]] So this too was on my mind and in my heart, and David Whyte's piece on Solace helped clarify and contextualize all of this for me personally. However, yes, I certainly believed it would speak to readers during this time.

30 October 2020

A Contemplative Moment: Solace (reprised from May 2016)

 

Solace

 
is the art of asking the beautiful question, of ourselves, of the world or of one another, in fiercely difficult and un-beautiful moments. Solace is what we must look for when the mind cannot bear the pain, the loss or the suffering that eventually touches every life and every endeavor, when longing does not come to fruition  in a form we can recognize, when people we know and love disappear, when hope must take a different form than the one we have shaped for it.
 
Solace is not an evasion, nor a cure for our suffering, nor a made up state of mind. Solace is a direct seeing and participation; a celebration of the beautiful coming and going, appearance and disappearance of which we have always been a part. Solace is not meant to be an answer, but an invitation, through the door of pain and difficulty, to the depth of suffering and simultaneous beauty in the world that the strategic mind by itself cannot grasp or make sense of.
 
Solace is a beautiful, imaginative home we make where disappointment can go to be rehabilitated. When life does not in any way add up, we must turn to the part of us that has never wanted a life of simple calculation. Solace is found in allowing the body's innate wisdom to come to the fore, the part of us that already knows it is mortal and must take its leave like everything else, and leading us, when the mind cannot bear what it is seeing or hearing, to the birdsong in the tree above our heads, even as we are being told of a death, each note an essence of mourning; of the current of a life moving on, but somehow, also, and most beautifully, carrying, bearing, and even celebrating into the life we have just lost. A life we could not see or appreciate until it was taken from us
 
To be consoled is to be invited onto the terrible ground of beauty upon which our inevitable disappearance stands, to a voice that does not sooth falsely, but touches the epicenter of our pain or articulates the essence of our loss, and then emancipates us into both life and death as an equal birthright.
 
To look for solace is to learn to ask fiercer and more exquisitely pointed questions, questions that reshape  our identities and our bodies and our relation to others. Standing in loss but not overwhelmed by it we become useful and generous and compassionate and even amusing companions for others. But solace also asks us very direct and forceful questions. Firstly, how will you bear the inevitable that is coming to you? And how will you endure it through the years? And above all, how will you shape a life equal to and as beautiful and as astonishing as a world that can birth you, bring you into the light, and then just as you are beginning to understand it, take you away?


by David Whyte in
Consolations, The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words

29 October 2020

Questions on Open Commensality or "Open Table Fellowship"

[[Dear Sister, how can you speak about open table access? How can we say we "value the Sacrament appropriately" if everyone is admitted to it [indiscriminately]? Do you also advocate allowing public sinners to partake of the Eucharist? Don't we need to protect the Eucharist from sacrilege? What about keeping people from eating and drinking the Body and Blood of Christ unworthily? Don't we have an obligation to do these things? I think you are being irresponsible and maybe even heretical. Does your Bishop know what you think about this? Do you allow public Sinners to share Communion in your hermitage?]] (Constructed from questions posed in several emails.)

Countercultural vs Cultural ways of Measuring What is Precious:

I realize that admitting everyone to Eucharist because the Eucharist is special is counterintuitive. We ordinarily believe that something is special when only some are allowed to participate in or partake of it, when it is reserved for some elite or other. In fact, one of the ways we define specialness in our world (and let's be clear it is a worldly definition) is by limiting access in this way. If something is available to everyone then, by definition, it ceases to be special and becomes common. When we realize that this is the deeply engrained way we think and run our world, we also begin to understand how radically Christianity undercuts our normal worldview. It says instead that the most precious realities we know are meant for everyone, not for an elite few. It says that in fact, in a world where things are measured according to whether or not they are common or a limited edition with limited access, and where a person's value is measured in part by how much access they can afford or otherwise earn or merit, what is truly rare is something where access (and thus, the love of the community in Christ) is available to all without price. Wasn't this part of the meaning of the Incarnation? Wasn't it what Jesus himself modeled for us --- even when he was badly treated or the disciples tried to fend people off and prevented them from touching him? Isn't it the reason Jesus' life and death tore asunder the veil between the sacred and profane, heaven and earth? Isn't it at the heart of our theologies of grace and redemption?

In fact, I believe that this kind of access to the Sacrament is a piece of valuing it appropriately. I believe that allowing such access must be complemented by treating the Eucharist with as much reverence as we can at all times (something we can certainly improve on in most parishes), by making sure our ministers act out of this reverence and model it for others, and so forth, but I believe both of these elements are part of treating the Sacrament as the most truly Sacred reality we have ---along with the Word of God, the other Sacraments and Church herself. Similarly, I believe we each demonstrate our sense of being both called and chosen not by excluding others but by inviting them to participate in the Communion which enlivens and empowers us. More, we do this because in this way we proclaim the Sacrament a gift we can never merit ourselves and therefore, can never exclude others from if they sincerely wish to participate.

Taking Seriously We are ALL Sinners:

As far as admitting public sinners to the Eucharist I believe part of the problem has been separating our universal identities as sinners from our ability to receive the Eucharist. Our focus instead has been, perhaps, too much on "being in the state of grace." If we were to make it clear that we welcome public sinners to join all the rest of us sinners in receiving the gift which empowers repentance (as , by the way, our prayers before Communion proclaim when they say, "Lord, I am  not worthy. . ."), the Eucharist could no longer be used by those in good standing to brand others. 

On the other side of the equation, public sinners could not use the Eucharist  as a way to assert they are Catholics in good standing, nor to thumb their noses at the hierarchy, nor any of the other motives that might be in play except that on some level they, like the rest of us, remain believers open to being changed and healed. There would be no reason for media to play up the reception of Eucharist by those members the Church has termed public sinners --- unless, of course, it is to publicize the fact that the Church welcomes everyone to receive the gift of God she mediates. (Wouldn't THOSE be great headlines!!) Nor would those Catholics who are in good standing be as easily able to forget that Eucharist is a gift they never merit. 

Though we pray, "Lord I am not worthy. . ." every time we approach the Lord's table, I suspect that often there is an implicit, often unconscious rider attached, "O Lord I am not worthy, (but I am in the state of grace so on some level I am not really unworthy any longer)!" in even more egregious situations, the rider which might be attached could go something like "O God I am not worthy, but I know I am not a public sinner like that guy over there!!) I suspect that more often than we realize, the parable of the publican and the sinner applies to "Good Catholics" looking askance at people whose hearts they can never really know. Finally if we allowed universal access, the Church herself would be encouraged to remember she is entrusted with Eucharist as steward with the Master's property; it is not her possession anymore than the risen Christ can ever be anyone's possession.

While I believe we ought to treat the Eucharist with the utmost reverence, I do not believe that allowing sinners to approach the Lord's table constitutes sacrilege unless they are approaching in order to consciously thumb their nose at  the Faith we hold. And in such a case the injury is being done to themselves, not to Jesus. God risks in loving us. We take the same risk in loving others in this way. As I understand it, allowing sinners to approach the table to foster reconciliation and build unity is the reason we were gifted with Eucharist. Too, I am reminded that in the NT it is Jesus' holiness which is "contagious" and makes holy, not the other way around. Jesus is never made unclean by consorting with sinners, touching the sick or dying, breaking kashrut, and so forth. 

Similarly, Jesus never prevented Judas from partaking of the meal with the others though Judas' betrayal was real and already underway at the Last Supper. When people are kept from Jesus he stops the disciples and allows those without status to approach him. He speaks to women; more, he allows them to speak to him --- even Canaanite and Samaritan women! He welcomes children (those with no status whatsoever) and admonishes his disciples not to prevent them from coming to him. In the parable of the Prodigally Merciful Father (Prodigal Son) Jesus redefines the nature of repentance so that instead of going through the Temple process it comes to mean, "Just come home, rejoin the family, and enter the feast!" No one, according to Jesus, was rendered unclean in the parable when the prodigal son traversed the center of the community to return home. Sacrilege might have been on Jewish leaders' minds, but it was not a concern of Jesus.

Paul's Theology and Eating and Drinking Unworthily;

What about eating and drinking unworthily (1 Cor 11), especially since we universally proclaim our unworthiness before Communion? It's an important question of course, but what did Paul mean by that? What was the situation in Corinth? Remember that everyone including the socially well-off were bringing food and drink to the meal. The poor brought less, the rich more and there were inequalities and divisions in the actual meal. Also Paul had been trying to hammer home the notion that in Christ there are no distinctions; there may be different gifts but they are from the same Spirit in the same Body. The Corinthians had bought instead into the notion that some gifts were special, others less so, some were called to a greater spiritual life or holiness than others who were supposedly called to or gifted with less. Unfortunately those with greater social advantages mistook these for spiritual gifts as well. Their celebration of the Eucharist reflected all of these distortions of the Gospel. Any interpretation of what Paul means by eating and drinking unworthily must bear this in mind.

Thus, I think Paul's reference to eating and drinking unworthily actually involved his judgment on elitism and the practice of giving a greater share in the Eucharistic meal to some than that given to the poor and those considered "less spiritually gifted". At the same time then, neither do I think he meant approaching the Eucharist as though we ARE worthy, as though we DO merit such a great gift, as though we believe reception indicates our relationship with God is "just fine thank you very much" and in fact, is better than our neighbor's, is ever acceptable! Those who receive a gift no one can merit can only do so unworthily if they ignore, forget, or otherwise refuse to claim their identity as sinners who in no sense can EVER merit this great gift. Personally I think this is a far bigger and more insidious problem with our Eucharistic praxis today. Paul was speaking of those who disdain the meaning of the Sacrament in an elitist and divisive way. This was what Paul might have considered "public sin" in his communities.

Similarly since Paul was concerned with a Church some of whom had denied Jesus' resurrection they may have doubted they receive Christ's very Self in this Sacrament. Today people may receive because they are making some political or similar point with their reception. In other words, they are using the Sacrament for their own agenda, not making themselves open to God's! Let me also be clear about one thing though. If a person believes in her heart of hearts that receiving is wrong, then it is wrong and receiving would be a sin, potentially a very grave sin. The sin here is that the person acts against conscience; it would remain wrong even if she were really in the state of grace otherwise.

Keys to the Celebration and Reception of Eucharist:

When we are dealing with such a great gift as the Eucharist we are going to run into problems (or at least tensions) in regulating its celebration and reception. I personally believe that the greater problems fall on the side of self-righteousness or complacency. I believe it is more pernicious and problematical to allow folks to believe they actually DO merit Eucharist in some sense because they are "in the state of grace" or can make a fidelity oath than it is to cultivate the sense of our prayer, "O Lord I am not worthy. . ." and open Communion to those who are thought to be (or even those who really are) public sinners. 

The weight of admitting everyone in this way falls on the community of faith to make sure the liturgy is reverently done, the Eucharist is treated with great regard, our gestures of reverence are not hurried or made as a kind of afterthought (for instance, the sign of the cross cannot be done furtively as though we are children who don't know how, our profound bows cannot be done with a mere embarrassed nod of our heads or while hurriedly backing away from or moving toward the altar; neither can we make up or multiply our own expressions of reverence in an attempt to outdo someone else!) Being welcoming and hospitable does NOT mean being overly casual or complacent, much less sloppy and careless. Just the opposite. We honor guests when we make it clear how important and sacred the event to which they have been welcomed.

The idea, of course, is to let everyone have a sense that what we do here is, to some extent, different than what we do elsewhere, that it is weighty and, for instance, requires gestures we use nowhere else, gestures, etc that are done thoughtfully and with reverence. If we can do this we can provide a context which opens Eucharist to public sinners (and to us less-public sinners!) which can empower conversion. Especially we can make it clear that this Sacrament is special precisely because it is meant for every person, not for an elite. This is the countercultural or "anti-world" lesson we really need to teach in our Christian praxis and worship.

On Charges of Heresy and Communion Here at Stillsong:

Finally, let me answer your questions about heresy, etc. What I have said here about admitting public sinners is not heretical. It pertains to discipline, not to doctrine or dogma. Further, I have fully honored and supported the Church's theology of the Eucharist in what I have written here. I argue as I do BECAUSE I believe fully in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, as well as in the proclaimed Word, assembly, and priest. As for my hermitage the Eucharist is reserved here for only two reasons: 1) for my own needs because of the demands of eremitical solitude, and 2) because occasionally someone in the immediate neighborhood (part of this parish) may need someone to bring them Eucharist if they are ill. If my pastor were to say Mass here, especially on a special day or feast, it is possible a couple of others could also attend (though not while on lockdown!), but my own celebrations of Communion here are private. Even my diocesan delegates do not ordinarily receive Communion with me here. I assume my Bishop is aware of the contents of my Rule, that he occasionally reads this blog, and I know that I am appropriately trusted to be duly reverent of and responsible for the (reservation of) the Eucharist entrusted to me. More than that I cannot say.

22 October 2020

What Do You Make of a Diocese Closed to Considering Professing Diocesan Hermits?

[[Dear Sister, I wrote to you many many months back, and we exchanged some emails. I hope you are well, and given the pandemic, I doubly hope you are well. I thought this right up your alley. I saw on one diocesan website that states, ¨We have no diocesan hermits, and we are not opening to accepting any.¨ How very strange, given that the eremitic life has been present throughout the life of the church. Why do you suppose the eremitic life is so suspect? Sure, in a land with so many people, and indeed so many single people, there must be good hermits among us. What gives?]]

Hi there, and thanks for your concern and for the question. All is well here, though there are some ways I have not been able to get together with people and that really is a source of strain. I apologize that I do not recognize your email address. Perhaps you could jog my memory some re what we have discussed in the past; that would be helpful to me.

Yes, I think I know the diocese you are speaking of. They have a good understanding of the diocesan eremitic vocation and I can say that because I know who contributed to and wrote their material on this vocation. I have never asked why they decided to take this tack --- they were once open to hermits under c 603, so this is a shift for them. However, let me say that given their sound understanding of the vocation, this may not and need not be a matter of the eremitic life itself being suspect. It may be that the diocese has not found anyone willing or able to commit to accompanying a candidate for profession through the sometimes-lengthy discernment process required. It may be that no one feels they understand the life well enough to do this. This can happen precisely because they DO value the vocation and realize the degree of commitment it takes on the part of chancery personnel working with a single individual.

Similarly, it could be that they have received a considerable number of inquiries and petitions to be admitted to vows under canon 603 and found none of these were really hermits nor interested in becoming hermits. (Here is one place the distinction between being a lone individual and being a hermit is critically important. It is also a reason some dioceses have run into problems after they have admitted persons to profession.) I know that in my own diocese I was told they received on average, one request per month by persons seeking to become diocesan hermits even in the years since my own perpetual profession (this was around the time the person I was speaking to assumed office of Vicar for Religious). This was about five or six years ago and that meant the diocese had dealt with 8-10 years of at least a dozen petitions or inquiries per year and "none of these had gotten as far as (I myself) had". 

It needs always to be remembered the vocation is a rare one. (This emphatically does not mean it is either more or less valuable than other vocations, but it is rarer than they are nonetheless.) Moreover, eremitical solitude differs from other forms of solitude; the reason and way a person lives their own aloneness differs completely from many of these while sharing external similarities. This is ordinarily not appreciated by many whose imaginations are captured  by canon 603 --- and sometimes it is not sufficiently appreciated by the chanceries discerning a vocation with them. Consequently, the number of individuals who approach a diocese completely unready to enter into, much less to journey through a serious discernment and formation process eventuating in perpetual profession because they are not yet  hermits in any essential way seems to be considerable. Of these, a majority are not even contemplatives yet. Many would like to become Religious living without benefit or the obligations of community and also without literally embracing a desert spirituality and becoming a hermit --- a lot like the Episcopal (Anglican) canon allows for, but the Roman Catholic canon 603 is specifically eremitical and does not envision a generic religious life lived alone,

Yes, you are right that there are a lot of single people out there, but that is not the question. There are also a lot of people out there who would like to be Religious, but that is not the question either. Both of these facts can complicate or obscure the real question, which is, how many of these have experienced a divine call to live as a hermit and have taken the initiative and responsively shaped their life in that precise way before ever contacting a diocese --- or even if their diocese shows unwillingness to profess diocesan hermits? I think this is a critical part of discerning such a vocation and the question that must not be missed. 

Recently I have met a number of people who like to consider themselves hermits or aspiring hermits. Of these relatively few people, only 1 or 2 seem(s) to have actually become hermits in some essential sense and of these neither has demonstrated (to me anyway), that they actually have taken time to distinguish between being a lone individual and a hermit, secured a regular spiritual director, worked at personal formation in eremitical life/spirituality, or reflected significantly on the hermit's relation to the whole church. They tend to define freedom in terms of license and be about individuality rather than solitary eremitism. In other wards, this is a select community of self-described hermits and aspirants with only a couple actually taking the steps a diocese would need to see in order to accept and advance their candidacy toward profession.

All of that said, I do believe it is wrong for a diocese to simply close themselves in a blanket way to ALL individuals seeking to discern such a vocation with the Church. There will be few genuine vocations, yes, but the universal Church has determined this vocation exists and there are authentic hermits whose lives argue for the vitality and significance of this vocation. All dioceses should at least be open to the fact that there may be one or two people in the local church who might well be determined to have an suthentic eremitical vocation. In the case you described the diocese is actually giving people reason to do something which is not a good idea, namely, to diocese shop for a bishop/diocese who will profess them. More importantly, they show themselves apparently closed to the working of the Holy Spirit in the local Church.

At the same time I do believe that a single really good candidate, one who has become a hermit on her own initiative under spiritual direction, and come to understand the importance of ecclesial vocations to eremitic life might well change this diocese's mind on the matter. It would take some perseverance on the part of the candidate and some willingness to listen on the part of the diocese, but it is possible for an authentic hermit to change a diocese's mind -- at least in terms of opening themselves to actual discernment processes. Since this implies opening themselves to other possible candidates, they might then need to set some guidelines on the basis of such a vocation --- guidelines about what they expect in a candidate who wishes to discern an ecclesial vocation with the chancery staff, for instance. That would be entirely reasonable and allow them to winnow out those who have not even begun the process of becoming and living as a hermit in the lay state. There are also enough dioceses and some diocesan hermits now who can assist in working out a process (not a program!) of formation, etc. which is responsible but not onerous. Given all of this, simply closing to the possibility of using canon 603 generally seems particularly unreasonable to me.

20 October 2020

Are Canon 603 Hermits "Religious"?

[[Dear Sister, are canon 603 hermits considered religious?]]

I have answered this question on the blog before so you might look for it in other places here, but the answer to your question is yes, c 603 hermits are considered religious. In the Handbook on Canons 573-746  and in the section on “Norms Common to Institutes of Consecrated Life” looking at canon 603 specifically, canonist Ellen O’Hara, CSJ writes, [[The term “religious” now applies to individuals with no obligation to common or community life and no relationship to an institute.]]

One can argue the case on the basis of the public profession made, the stable state of life entered, the title hermits are allowed to adopt, post-nomial initials bishops approve, and the other canons which also apply to the c 603 hermit that they have entered the religious state. This is particularly true since religious come together in communities because they are called to chastity in celibacy, religious poverty and obedience, not the other way around. Community life supports and elaborates the more original call to live the vows along with a call to specific mission and charism; one does not make vows because one is called first to live in community. That is, the call to chastity in celibacy is an actual gift and call; it is not embraced merely because it is helpful to life in community or to the community's ministry. 

Hermits’ need for community support is addressed in the next sentence of the chapter when O’Hara says; [[Groups [of hermits] could use the category of associations of the faithful to have ecclesiastical identity if they wish.]] In this way canonists recognize the character of solitary hermits as religious and at the same time honor the requirement (cf commentators on c 603) that c 603 not be used for communities of hermits.