Feast of the Baptism of Jesus

Of all the feasts we celebrate, the baptism of Jesus is the most difficult for us to understand. We are used to thinking of Baptism as a solution to original sin instead of the means of our initiation into the death and resurrection of Jesus, or our adoption as daughters and sons of God and heirs to his Kingdom, or again, as a consecration to God's very life and service. When viewed this way, and especially when we recall that John's baptism was one of repentance for sin, how do we make sense of a sinless Jesus submitting to it?

I think two points need to be made here. First, Jesus grew into his vocation. His Sonship was real and completely unique but not completely developed or historically embodied from the moment of his conception; rather it was something he embraced more and more fully over his lifetime. Secondly, his Sonship was the expression of solidarity with us and his fulfillment of the will of his Father to be God-with-us. Jesus will incarnate the Logos of God definitively in space and time, but this event we call the incarnation encompasses and is only realized fully in his life, death, and resurrection -- not in his nativity. Only in allowing himself to be completely transparent to this Word, only in "dying to self," and definitively setting aside all other possible destinies does Jesus come to fully embody and express the Logos of God in a way which expresses his solidarity with us as well.

It is probably the image of Baptism-as-consecration then which is most helpful to us in understanding Jesus' submission to John's baptism. Here the man Jesus is set apart as the one in whom God will truly "hallow his name". Here, in an act of manifest commitment, Jesus' humanity is placed completely at the service of the living God and of those to whom God is committed. Here his experience as one set apart for God establishes him as completely united with us and our human condition. And here too Jesus anticipates the death and resurrection he will suffer for the sake of both human and Divine destinies which, in him, will be reconciled and inextricably wed to one another. His baptism establishes the pattern not only of HIS humanity, but that of all authentic humanity. So too does it reveal the nature of true divinity, for our's is a God who becomes completely subject to our sinful reality in order to free us for his own entirely holy one.

I suspect that even at the end of the Christmas season we are still scandalized by the incarnation. We still stumble over the intelligibility of this baptism, and the propriety of it especially. Our inability to fathom Jesus' baptism, and our tendency to be shocked by it, just as JohnBp was probably shocked, says we are not comfortable, even now, with a God who enters exhaustively into our reality. We remain uncomfortable with a Jesus who is tempted like us in ALL THINGS, and matures into his identity as God's only begotten Son. We are puzzled by one who is holy as God is holy and, as the creed affirms, "true God of true God" and who, evenso, is consecrated to the one he calls Abba and to the service of his Kingdom and people. A God who comes to us in smallness, weakness, submission, and self-emptying is really not a God we are comfortable with --- despite three weeks of Christmas celebrations and reflections, and a prior four weeks of preparation -- is it? And perhaps this is as it should be. Perhaps the scandal attached signals to us we are getting this right theologically.

Afterall, today's feast tells us that Jesus' public ministry begins with a consecration. His public life begins with an event that prefigures his end as well. There is a real dying to self involved here, not because Jesus has a false self which must die -- as each of us has --- but because his life is placed completely at the disposal of his God, his Abba. Loving another, affirming the being of another in a way which subordinates one's own being to theirs --- putting one's own life at their disposal always entails a death of sorts -- and a kind of rising to new life as well. The dynamics present on the cross are present here too -- complete and obedient (that is open and responsive) submission to the will of God, and an unfathomable subjection to that which sin makes necessary so that God's love may conquer precisely here as well.

The Unique Charism of the Diocesan Hermit

I received a question about the issue of canonical status, specifically why is it some hermits seek canonical status --- viz, isn't it a matter of pride, of self-aggrandizement and the refusal to live the hiddenness appropriate to the eremitical life? I would like to answer this question, but I would also like to frame my answer in terms of the unique charism of the diocesan (C 603) hermit. It does no good to simply deny the truth of the assertions in the question. Instead it must be seen that canonical status fosters a particular charism in ways non-canonical status does not.

As I have written a while back, it is not unusual to hear stories about hermits or aspiring hermits who approached their dioceses requesting to be admitted to eremitic profession under canon 603 (the ONLY way for a solitary hermit -- as opposed to one belonging to a congregation --- to make public profession), and who were told "no" for a variety of reasons. Some of these are completely legitimate, relating as they do, to the hermit herself, her competencies, maturity, stability, spirituality, and so forth. Others are much less legitimate: "one does not need to be professed to be a hermit," (this is strictly true but may be misleading) "canonical status is contrary to the statuslessness of the real hermit," "you can do and be the very same thing by embracing solitude as a non-canonical hermit," etc. While it is surprising to hear diocesan officials (who usually ARE canonical themselves in one sense or another!) saying such things, these assertions do raise a number of questions, not only about canonical status and the nature of public profession and consecration, but about the unique charism of the diocesan hermit.

Public Profession or Private, Canonical Status or Non-Canonical, Does it Matter?

It might be well to deal with some basic questions first then. What is the difference between public vow and consecration and private vows and dedication? Well, to begin with this is NOT simply the difference between vows made in a darkened, relatively empty church and those made in one filled with people! It is not about notoriety or lack thereof. Private vows are undertaken by making vows in the presence (not in the hands of) one's priest, spiritual director, et al, in which one commits (dedicates) oneself  to God to live according to specific values. The commitment is serious and real, but it does not cause the person making it to enter a new state of life (religious or the consecrated state of life), nor does it constitute them in a new juridical standing under canon or civil law. One can be dispensed from the vows at anytime by one's pastor, and one lives one's life as a private person --- not in the sense of remaining behind the scenes, so to speak, but in the sense of living and acting or ministering in one's own name, not in the name of the church or as a public representative of this life. In a private profession one dedicates one's self to God (a significant act!) but one is not consecrated by God via the Church, that is, one is not permanently set apart by God in this particular way through the mediation of the Church.

In public profession and consecration the situation is different. First of all "public" does not merely refer to the presence of the public at the ceremony --- although it is appropriate that the profession be attended by the public! "Public" here does not point to or imply notoriety just as "private" does not point to the lack thereof. It points instead to a profession which establishes the professed in a public role with legal rights and responsibilities. One has a right to represent the religious or consecrated (in this case, the eremitic) state publicly and in the name of the Church in whose authority the professed was admitted to vows and had those vows received. For the Sister living in community, for instance, with public/canonical profession she acquires specific rights within the institute or congregation (voting rights, right to hold office, to be entrusted with certain tasks, etc). Further, while one professes vows publicly during perpetual profession the person is consecrated by God. Again, both the individual's dedication of self and Divine consecration mediated in each case by the Church are present during perpetual public profession. Not so in private vows or dedication.

A note on the term "Canonical Status"

The questions which prompted this blog entry are not uncommon. Recently I read a blog piece which attributed the motives of pride and a love of notoriety to those hermits who specify they are diocesan or canon 603 hermits, or who seek this standing. These hermits were played off against those who supposedly more authentically accept the hiddenness of the eremitical life and seek not to be "somebodies" but to be "nobodies." I think this kind of characterization is unfortunate, but there is a common misunderstanding about the term "status" in the phrase canonical status at the root of such analyses. In ordinary usage, "status" refers to a relative ranking in church or society. One has status if one is ranked higher than others, for instance. But this is only one meaning of the term and it is NOT what is denoted in the phrase "Canonical status." Instead the word refers to a kind of standing under the law; it means literally, "canonically legal standing," or "standing in canon law." This is the case because it comes from the Latin status which refers to "state" and points to a new state of life. Hermits who have gone through the often protracted process of discernment and been admitted to profession under canon 603 share a new standing in the church. Not only have they entered a new state of life, but they represent this state and the eremitical vocation in an official way in the name of the Church.

Note well, that the church herself recognizes the existence of both non-canonical and canonical hermits. She does so in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. It is not a matter of one kind of hermit being better than another kind of hermit, or one having greater relative ranking over the other, etc, but it IS the case that one has a public and legal standing under canon law, while the other does not. While it may be difficult to eschew the idea that one is of a higher rank than the other, it is something we should consciously try very hard to do. In any case, even if it is difficult to avoid this altogether, it is a misunderstanding we should try dilligently at least not to exacerbate.

Legal Standing: A Matter of Obligations, Responsibilities, and Rights.

The question this all raises for me is this: "In light of public profession and consecration, and canonical standing, what can necessarily be expected of the canonical hermit which IS NOT necessarily expected of the non-canonical hermit?" I think this particular question reframes the issue of public vs private and canonical-vs non-canonical in a more positive way. It also points to the fact that solitary hermits with canonical standing, despite all the similarities in fundamentals, have a somewhat different charism than those hermits who live in community or as non-canonical hermits. It is a charism which is related directly to the rights and responsibilities which attach to their state. In reflecting on my New Year's resolutions a few entries ago I wrote:

[[ The diocesan hermit does NOT belong to herself or even only to God; she belongs in a special way to her parish and diocese.) The Camaldolese describe this part of their own charism as "living alone together." For me I suppose it is more a matter of being alone together since I do not live with parishioners and yet, I am joined in communion with them in several different and profound ways.]]


So what is it my diocese and parish, my Bishop and Pastor, et al have a RIGHT to EXPECT from me BECAUSE of public profession and canonical status? First, they have a right to expect me to live my Rule of Life with real integrity. In that Rule I make certain claims about eremitic life, about silence, solitude, prayer, penance, and the grace of God --- as well as a commitment to a life that is ordered accordingly. They have every right to expect my life to embody the truth of those claims and commitments in a way which is edifying to them. (I should note that since the Rule itself is approved by the Bishop, people have a right to expect it to be soundly based both theologically and spiritually, and capable of being adopted by others as well.) I also made vows of poverty, chastity and obedience which characterize the content of my life in terms of Jesus Christ and a mutual responsive and responsible love which will not (and will not be allowed to) die, and which also summons every Christian to something similar. They have every right to expect to be able to see the truth of these vows in all that I am and do. They have a right to expect to see me growing in these (or at least to trust that I AM doing so!), reflecting on them and sharing the fruits of this reflection in whatever way is appropriate not only in the parish, but in the diocese and the wider church community as well. And of course, they have every right to have my life be of direct fruitfulness and benefit to the diocese and parish. More about this in a bit.

More generally, parish and diocese have a right to expect the following characteristics of me: 1) wholeness --- psychological, spiritual, and personal. The vocation to eremitism is a vocation to wholeness, personal maturity, compassion, reliability, stability, and authentic sanctity rooted in the incarnation. It is not a vocation to eccentricity or instability, misanthropy or personal indulgence and selfishness. It is reasonable to expect I will take advantage of every resource necessary to attain and maintain these characteristics. 2) professional competence --- every hermit has a mission and a ministry even if these are only evident in her prayer per se. Above all, it may be reasonably expected that the hermit is a woman or man of prayer, that s/he is a contemplative for whom the life of prayer is primary and underlies, supports, and informs everything else. It is never an afterthought, never a postscript to a life of apostolic or pastoral zeal and activity. This said, most hermits, however, do come in contact with others in additional pastoral capacities. Canonical status says the Pastor, the Bishop, and indeed, anyone who approaches the hermit has every right to trust that the hermit is spiritually sound, and trained adequately (or capable of determining the need for more training or education) in whatever areas of endeavor she engages: spiritual direction, adult education, retreat work, etc. They have a right to expect that simple prayer requests will be met, and met with compassion, discretion, and sensitivity. (Obviously one impaired under #1 above, would be unable to meet these simple requirements.)

They also have the right to expect: 3) appropriate spiritual and theological formation: for those hermits who write, publish, are involved even in limited catechesis or faith formation, or do retreat work or spiritual direction, these are essential. Of course, they are essential in the hermit's day to day life in cell as well. Without them the hermit is apt to go off the rails entirely in one way or another. Spirituality requires good theology, good theology issues in and is supported by mature spirituality. The two go hand in hand and the hermit needs both if she is to touch others' lives fruitfully, and also of course, not only to survive the struggles of the hermitage but to mature into sainthood there.

4) Oversight, direction, and accountability: A canonical hermit is responsible directly and/or legally to several other people.There is her pastor who, while not a legitimate superior, ordinarily does assume oversight regarding her activities in the parish, and extends opportunities to her on the basis of need as well as her own interests and competencies. There is her Bishop who has canonically approved the hermit's Rule and is her legitimate superior to whom she is bound by a vow of obedience; (the vow is made to God but in the hands of the Bp and for this reason the hermit is responsible to him). The Bishop may delegate the day to day responsibility for the hermit's integrity, well-being, growth, etc to another (religious, Vicar, priest, etc) and thus, establish them as superiors or quasi-superiors. Evenso, the hermit meets with the Bishop regularly, maintains interim contact by email or post, and generally keeps him apprised of her situation. The canonical hermit is accountable both generally (to God, the universal and the local church) and more specifically to whomever assumes the role of legitimate superior in her life. There is her spiritual director who, like the pastor, has ordinarily recommended the hermit for perpetual profession and consecration, who meets regularly with her, and who therefore understands her and assists her to grow in and remain faithful to her vowed commitments, prayer, personal development, etc. Finally, if the canonical hermit has affiliated with a Congregation, Institute, or monastery, as an Oblate or Associate, she will be responsible in a more casual way to her prioress, abbot, oblate chaplain, associate director, etc. To all of these people in various ways, and with varying degrees of legality, etc., the hermit is accountable.

And finally, the members of my parish and diocese have the right to expect 5) that a life lived for God more generally will be a life lived for them specifically. I believe the members of my parish (and diocese more generally) have a right to expect my vows to God to signify my willingness and availability to give my life for them, not only in prayer, penance, silence and solitude, but in whatever ways my gifts allow within this specifically eremitic framework. The corollary here is that my vows make me a public person, no matter the essential hiddenness of my life, and that, I personally believe, gives my pastor the right to call on me in ways which are appropriate to a diocesan hermit. The same is true of my Bishop. For instance, if there was a candidate for eremitic profession who needed mentoring or occasional contact, and together we agreed this would be reasonable for me to undertake, I believe it would be a part of the charism of the diocesan hermit.

All of these expectations point to the gift the diocesan hermit is to the Church and world. They point to a life lived for others and meant to assist in their redemption. They point to a person who has assumed a life in solitude to reveal God's presence there. They focus especially on the richness and generosity of the life because eremitical solitude contrasts so completely with the narrowness and self-centeredness of isolated living. They remind us that many many people exist in physical separation from their dioceses and parishes and yet belong intimately. Many of these pray regularly and even assiduously in ways which allows the Church to continue her mission in the world. And for those who have not yet discovered the difference between isolation and solitude, or who have not yet discovered the way God's presence can transfigure human isolation, the diocesan hermit especially is a gift who lives out this particular good news. In short, these necessary expectations serve the gift the diocesan hermit is to her local and universal church.

In saying this, I think I have my finger on the unique pulsepoint that marks the heartbeat of the diocesan hermit as somewhat different than that of monastery-based or non-canonical hermits. While it is true that everyone would need to exercise real care and discernment in taking advantage of this dimension of the vocation, I genuinely believe this is part of the unique charism of the diocesan (canon 603) hermit. Overall, I see the diocesan hermit as a RESOURCE for the diocese and parish, not only as a still point of contemplative and intercessory prayer (which they should assuredly be in every instance), but as an official representative of a unique and rare vocation to consecrated life which proclaims the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the Church --- a church which needs it, and needs to know it consciously. She will represent this vocation to others, not only in fundamental and essential hiddenness, but publicly. (Note that part of the public consecration of the diocesan hermit, as I have also commented on in other entries here, is the canonical granting of (or clothing with) the cowl or other prayer garment. At every liturgy she attends this garment marks her in a way which symbolizes essential hiddennness, but ALSO in a way which says she is here in the midst of the assembly as "their hermit". It is a paradoxical symbol I think, one which says both hiddenness and availability in one breath. Ideally, the cowl (or prayer garment) sets the hermit apart and recalls the essential solitude of her life, but not as a wall or hedge which shuts others out. Instead it points to something very old being made new and embodied in new and relevant ways to a Church which needs both dimensions, the ancient and the new, the solitary and the communal, the contemplative and the apostolic or evangelical. The diocesan hermit includes these others in her life even while maintaining an essential hiddenness and solitude)

Let me reiterate (because it is so easy to misunderstand on this point) that I am not implying, much less saying that the canonical hermit is better than the non-canonical hermit. Neither am I saying she necessarily represents the eremitical life better than a non-canonical hermit might well do. But canonical standing does say to others that this person represents this vocation on behalf of the church, or in her name. It does say that this SPECIFIC vocation (not the eremitic vocation generally, but THIS person's vocation) is authentic and tested, that it has been discerned by many people over a period of years and is of God. It says that this person has accepted this call and committed herself to living it out faithfully, and that further, there is every reason to believe she will really do that with the grace of God over the span of her entire life. Finally, it says that she will live her life FOR the others who are her parish and diocesan community. A non-canonical hermit may do all of these things, but there is nothing in her situation per se which obligates her in the same way public profession and canonical status do, or which necessarily allows others to look at her commitment in the same way they MUST be able to do with one canonically professed and consecrated.

"And a little child shall lead us!"

Well, we are approaching the Baptism of Jesus and the end of the Christmas season. A friend sent me a picture this evening which I thought was simply too precious not to share.


The picture was accompanied by the citation of Matt 18:20: "Where two or three are gathered, there I am as well!" and the completely rhetorical question, "Does this count?"

Eve of the Feast of Epiphany, Resolutions for the Year

Well, it seems hardly possible that the twelve days of Christmas have passed and the New (secular) Year is hard upon us. In just another week Christmastime will have passed. I have been spending time looking over the past year (and even decades prior to that) and looking at what has happened to me, all that I have to be grateful for, how it is that God has been so very active in my life all this time much of which culminated and came together in visible ways in this past year (it was also the 40th anniversary of my baptism). While Christmas was an especially significant one for me this year in light of perpetual eremitic profession, I think in some ways Epiphany is even more meaningful to me. After all, how many times in the years leading up to perpetual profession did I fail to see God's hand at work? How often did I question whether things were proceeding according to his will? Let me say frankly that there were a number of them, and while I know for a fact not everything that occured (or failed to occur) was the will of God, Bonhoeffer's observation that ultimately nothing happens outside his will, along with Paul's that our's is a God who brings life out of death, is something I regard as completely true and without doubt. Of course it is also without doubt that his presence is often manifested in smallness, weakness, and the apparently ordinary, and sometimes I missed his quiet and everpresent epiphanies!

So, while we are supposed to come into the New Year with resolutions, because I have been focusing on what I am thankful for, I am only just now getting around to mine. So, what are they? Well, they all have to do with my eremitic life (because everything I am grateful for has to do with this vocation), and especially the unique charism that belongs to the diocesan hermit ---living into and out of that more fully. The diocesan hermit is sort of an interesting reality. She is called to be a solitary, like all hermits. And, like all Christian hermits, she is called to be a solitary-in-community. Except it is the case that her relationship with the local church, and especially with her parish are different than the hermit living in a monastery. This is also different from that of the non-canonical hermit who may or may not be accepted as representing eremitical life and is not representing this vocation (is not being a hermit) in the name of the church. (This acting in the name of the Church is not a matter of status so much as it is a matter of responsibility and others' completely appropriate expectations! The diocesan hermit does NOT belong to herself or even only to God; she belongs in a special way to her parish and diocese.) The Camaldolese describe this part of their own charism as "living together alone." For me I suppose it is more a matter of being together alone since I do not live with parishioners and yet, I am joined in communion with them in several different and profound ways.

The first of my resolutions then: to really come to know my parish, the people, their stories, lives, needs, dreams, hopes, tragedies, etc, that are part and parcel of its reality. No Christian hermit lives an emotionally impoverished life, nor one that is lacking in relationships, but I am very grateful for this community and the way they enrich me and allow me to reciprocate! Still, they are really my "new" parish, and that means I hardly know them as I would like or need to. (Let me say I am not sure HOW I will accomplish this goal AND maintain my hermit's solitude, but it should be interesting to give it a shot, no?)

The second, and related resolution: to continue to grow into my vocation to be a contemplative heart beating silently, strongly, compassionately, continuously, lovingly, and courageously in the center of this reality, in the center of the local diocesan church more generally, and in the heart of the Church universal. I have written about hermits being on the margins of society, but that is only so they may truly exist deep in the heart of God, and in the heart of his people as well, mediating God's presence in whatever ways he wills.

The third resolution then: To be completely faithful to "the discipline of the cell" which will, paradoxically, allow me to be present in and to the parish in even more fruitful ways, writing, teaching, blogging (especially scripture reflections), composing, playing violin, --- and under, with, and through it all, praying always --- contemplatively, intercessorily, and supportively.

Of course there are individual goals within each of these resolutions, goals which will be benchmarks of success or progress and I will not go into those here. When I reflect back on what this last year has been, and what I believe God wills for the new year, everything coalesces into these three related resolutions. I might summarize it as "the call to be a Camaldolese in the specific sense demanded by a vocation to diocesan eremitism".

In the meantime, all good wishes for a wonderful Epiphany, and for the remaining week of the Christmas season! Especially, prayers and good wishes for your own resolutions in this coming year!

From Stillsong I wish you Christ's Peace! May it be a source of strength and revelation to all you meet!

Happy New Year

"I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "Plans of fullness, not of harm: To give you a future, and a home." Dan Schutte, A Song of Hope

May the God who brings life out of death, meaning out of the senseless, healing out of brokenness, light out of darkness, hope out of despair, and belonging out of lostness, touch our lives this coming year in the ways we each need. May he love us into fullness of existence and transform us into authentic and truly passionate lovers in (and of) Christ. May he bless the time we each have turning chronos to kairos and bringing everything to fullness and perfection in himself. May we be attentive to him in all the times and ways we need to be, allowing the ordinary moments of everyday life to be recognized for what they are in him ---opportunities for the triumph of grace in our world. And may God bless each of us who journey together and touch one another in such diverse ways, whether within our parishes, dioceses, or via internet connections like blogs and message boards!

Peace and all good wishes for the new year from Stillsong Hermitage!!!
Laurel M O'Neal, erem.

The vocation to Chronic Illness,

I received some questions about the notion of "chronic illness as vocation", and I am aware that there have been a number of visits to the article here in the blog about Eremitism as a vocation for the chronically ill and disabled. While I will write those who emailed me with questions, I thought I should also write a bit more about this idea here, not only because the Review For Religious article on Eremitism which was reprised here was a relatively brief introduction to the idea, but also because as positively provocative as the phrase "vocation to chronic illness" is, it is also easily misunderstood.

What a Vocation to Chronic Illness is NOT

First, therefore, let me say something about what a "vocation to chronic illness" does NOT mean!! In no way do I mean to suggest that God wills our suffering, much less that he calls us to this, especially in the forms of chronic illness or disability! We need to make sense of suffering, and we need to take seriously the sovereignty of God, but we cannot take these two pieces of the human puzzle, facilely slide them together as though they are related as effect and cause, and conclude that God wills suffering. In fact, I don't think we can speak of the suffering human beings endure as positively willed by God in any way, shape, or form with the single exception of Christ's own exhaustive participation in our human condition. (The permissive will of God is another matter, and, except for agreeing that it is real, I am not addressing that here.)

Our Essential Vocation: Authentic Humanity

The conjunction of human and divine often strikes us as paradoxical: expressions of brokenness, sin, alienation, weakness, hatred, untruth and distortion stand in conjunction with wholeness, goodness, unity, power (authority), love, truth and beauty themselves. But, to be less abstract, the human-divine equation, the community or dialogical event we are each called to be often looks to be composed of incredible contradictions: our sinfulness becomes the place where God's mercy/justice is exercised most fully; our weakness and brokenness the place where God's own strength and wholeness (holiness) is most clearly revealed; our fundamental untruth and distortion the place where God's own truth verifies and hallows us, authoring us in Christ as his own parables to speak the Gospel to a hungry world.

There are few images of human sinfulness and brokenness so vivid as that of illness, and especially of chronic illness or disability. It is not the case that the ill person is a worse sinner than others who are well or relatively well. Neither is it the case that illness is the punishment for sin, especially personal sin. Still, it IS the case that the chronically ill bear in their own bodies the brokenness, estrangement from God, and alienation from the ground of all wholeness, holiness, and truth which are symptoms of the condition of human sinfulness. What is expressed in our bodies, minds, and souls, is the visible reminder of the universal human condition. Chronic illness itself then, is symbolic of one side of the truth of human existence, namely, that we exist estranged from ourselves, from others, and from our God. We are alienated from that which grounds us, establishes us as a unity, and marks us as infinitely precious and our lives as richly meaningful and fecund. We live our lives in contradiction to what we are TRULY called to be.

We sense this instinctively, and this is the reason, I believe, personal sin has so often been associated with illness as its punishment (rather than simply as consequence or symptom). We know that this state (estrangement symbolized by illness) is not as things SHOULD be, not as we are meant to exist, not appropriate to persons gifted in their capacity for dreaming and effecting those dreams beyond anything else known in creation. Chronic illness, in particular, is an expression of what SHOULD NOT BE. It is a metaphor for the reality of (the state of) sin; of itself it is paradigmatic of ONE PART of the human condition, that of brokenness, alienation, and degradation. Of course, there is another part, another side to things for the Christian especially, and it is this which transforms chronic illness into a context for the visible and vivid victory of God's love in our lives.

The Image of sinfulness transformed

Authentic humanity is modeled for us and mediated to us by Christ. And above all it is a picture of a life which implicates God in every moment and mood of this existence. More, it is a life which is an expression of the deep victories and individual healing and unity God's grace occasions when it is allowed to reign. Whether to the heights of union with God, or the depths of godless sin and death, Christ's life is an expression of that openness and responsiveness to God which constitutes truly human being, and the supreme example of what it means for God's creative sovereignty to triumph over human sinfulness. Paul expresses the paradox in this way: "My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness." Jesus' entire life is an expression of the response to the vocation to allow this truth to be realized in human history in a way which makes it a possibility for all of us. It is an image of the unseen (and sometimes unfelt) God whose presence transforms human sinfulness into abundant and eternal life and wholeness. It is, in brief, what we ourselves are called to, and to what those with chronic illness and disability in particular can make manifest with a unique vividness and poignancy.

During the Christmas season, there is another figure who particularly captures our attention in her own capacity to embody the paradox which Paul affirms. Mary, in her own way, is an exemplar of the dynamic of God's power which is made perfect in conjunction with human weakness and even barrenness. The result is a fruitfulness beyond all imagining, a truly miraculous and awesome humanity, which, precisely in its lowliness can, through the power of the Holy Spirit, spill over with the majesty of God's own life in our world. This too is what we ourselves are called to, and what those with chronic illness and disability can especially reveal with special poignancy and vividness.

What a Vocation to Chronic Illness Actually IS:

First of all then, a vocation to chronic illness is a call by God to live an authentically human life. It is a vocation to ESSENTIAL wellness and wholeness. This will mean it is a human life which mirrors Jesus' own, as well as that of Mary, and the other Saints, in allowing God to be God-with-us (Emmanuel). Concretely this means living a life which manifests the fact of God's love for us, and the intrinsic inestimable worth of such a life despite the ever-present values of a world which defines worth (and happiness!) in terms of productivity, earning power, wealth, health, and superficial beauty.

Afterall, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the good news that there is NOTHING we can do to earn God's love, and nothing we NEED DO! God loves us with an everlasting love, and he does so, as Ezekiel tells us,for the sake of his own self, for the sake of his own "holy Name". It is further, therefore, the very good news that with God being for us nothing and no one can prevail against us. God has entered into our human estate, and done so definitively. Objectively there is no dark corner, no place at all from whence God is absent --- for Jesus has implicated God even into the realms of sin and sinful or godless death. In fact, these become the privileged places which reveal God's face to us, the places where he is definitively present. I personally believe we have to say the same, therefore, of illness, which is ordinarily so clearly a metaphor for human brokenness, alienation, and godlessness. For the Christian, chronic illness in particular can become a metaphor for the triumph of God's love in the face of such brokenness. It can become a sacrament of God's presence in a world which needs such sacraments so very badly.

The vocation to chronic illness or disability is, like all Christian vocations, a call not to remain alone and self-sufficient, but instead to rest securely in God and in the esteem in which he holds us so surely. Like all Christian vocations it is a call to holiness, that is to ESSENTIAL WHOLENESS and perfection in and of God's own power, God's own "Godness". This requires we accept an entirely different set of values by which we live our lives from those put forward so often by our consumer-driven, production-defined world. It is a call to find meaning in a life lived simply with and for God, and to carry our convictions about this to a world which is so frantically in search of such meaning.

And, it means to learn to accept the suffering that comes our way as best we can so that He may "make up what was lacking" in the sufferings of Christ and one day be all in all. (Let me be clear that in no way is Paul suggesting Jesus' death was inadequate or did not definitively implicate God into the world of sinful godlessness; however, Paul is also clear that God's victory is not yet total; God is not yet all-in-all. Each of us has a part to play in the extension of Jesus' victory into the concrete and very personal parts of our own stories where God ALSO wills to be triumphant. While Jesus's victory makes God present here in principle, because these realms are personal, we must also allow him in to them. Evenso, we do so IN CHRIST, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, so this victory is an extension of Christ's, not our own in some falsely autonomous sense.)

Christians, above all, do not suffer alone, nor are they ultimately dehumanized by their suffering. On the contrary, suffering, as awful as it still can be, has now the capacity to humanize. This is not because of some power suffering has of itself. Rather, it is because suffering opens us to rely on someone larger and more powerful than ourselves, and to allow meaning to come to us as gift rather than achievement. It can open us in particular ways to the power and presence of God because it truly strips us bare of all pretensions and false sense of self. At the same time then, suffering can humanize because ours is a God who ultimately brings good out of evil, life out of death and barrenness, and meaning out of meaninglessness. This is, afterall, the good news of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. If those with chronic ilness can live up to their calls to allow these simple truths to be realized in their own lives, and become clear to others, they will, in large part, have accepted and fulfilled their vocations.

Christmas, 2007, Merry Christmas from Stillsong Hermitage!!

"Brothers and Sisters: In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; In these last days, he has spoken to us through his Son, whom he made heir of all things and through whom he created the universe." (Heb 1:1-2), Reading for Lauds, Christmas Day











"Here is the message we heard from him and pass on to you: that God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all. . . . Moreover, we have seen for ourselves, and we attest, that the Father sent the Son to be the savior of the world,

and if a person acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwells in him/her and s/he dwells in God. Thus we have come to know and believe the love which God has for us." 1 John 1:5, 4:14-16.

Sunday, Advent Week 4

"It was there from the beginning; we have heard it; we have seen it with our own eyes: we looked upon it, and felt it with our own hands; and it is of this we tell. Our theme is the Word of Life. This life was made visible; we have seen it and bear our testimony; we here declare to you the eternal life which dwelt with the Father and was made visible to us. What we have seen we declare to you, so that you and we together may share in a common life, that life which we share with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ. And we write this in order that the joy of us all may be complete." (1 Jn 1-4)



In memoriam: Anabelle Farrell, St Perpetua's Parish. Died December 23, 2007. For Anabelle, the real Feast of Light for which we all yearn has begun; her joy is complete, while we grieve her loss. Pray for us Anabelle!!

Emmanuel, Naming the Communion Which is the Human Heart

How many of us are completely convinced of our need for God? For how many of us is he an occasional visitor we may or may not make time for, but not really someone essential to our own humanity? We are human, we think, without him --- not AS human or enriched as we might be otherwise, but human all the same. We are "just" or "merely" human without him, we think --- poor perhaps, and beset by this sin or that maybe, but still human all the same.

But no! The truth at the heart of our faith is otherwise; the truth which undergirds our prayer, worship, hope, and destiny is otherwise. The option before us is not to be religious people or non-religious people. It is not a choice between a merely richer or more impoverished existence, both equally human. The option before us is really to be human or not, to embrace the truth at the heart of ourselves and to be the responsive word event we are called to be, or to reject this truth, and our deepest selves as well. Mary's response to this call was "FIAT!" and it is the response, the ongoing hearkening which God seeks from us as well.

The image of God coming to us from outside us is a true one. Christmas is indeed a celebration of this kind of coming. But Christmas is also the fulfillment of a young woman's hearkening to the Word spoken deep within her, uniquely spoken within her, yes, but spoken within her just as it is spoken within each of us as well. The nativity of the One who would definitively incarnate God's logos is what we will celebrate at Christmas, but this event is rooted in the altogether human "yes" to God's proposal to wed his destiny to ours; it is a yes which is expected from each of us, and which was uniquely accomplished in Mary's own heart. It is the yes we are meant to be, and which our hearts are meant to sing at each moment and mood of our lives, the yes which will allow God's merciful love to transform the barrenness and poverty of our existence into fruifulness and new life.

The image of the human heart as a communal reality has been very rich for me this Advent, and I cannot let it go at this point (this blog has taken on the shape of a theme and variations, I know). The sense that I am not human alone is a freshly startling insight for me. It is not simply that I need others, nor even that my being embraces others as threads in the weaving which is my life. These things are true enough, and I can recall the times I came to understand these things, and the theological quandries they resolved. The truth goes deeper, is more profound, however: I am myself ONLY INSOFAR as I am a communion with God (and with others in and through him).

Communion with God is not simply something I am made for in the future --- as though I have the capacity for this relationship, but could, if I chose, forego it and still be myself. Communion with God is the NATURE OF my ESSENTIAL being. I AM --- insofar as I am truly human --- communion with God. My truest I is a "we".(Remember e e cumming's poem, we're wonderful 1X1? cf post for October 26, 2007 to reread this poem) To the extent God and I are a we, I am truly myself. This is true for each of us, no matter our vocation or state of life. For us, the choice is between a false autonomy which is really inhuman, and (as Paul Tillich would put the matter) a theonomy which constitutes us as truly human. Unless this exists, and to the extent there is no communion with God, there is no "I" --- not in the truest sense of that pronoun.

The circumcision of our hearts, the making ready "the way of the Lord" is not only the making ready for Christmas. It is the preparation for our own continued nativities as well. With Mary, we learn to say "Fiat" to the God who would be God-with-us as part of our very being. Prayer is indeed not something only specialists or the really religious do; it is the essence of being human, the activity which allows the God who would REALLY join his destiny with our own to be the One he WOULD be, and to be the persons he makes US to be as well. Therefore, we pray for two reasons: 1) because we are MADE for it and would not be authentically human selves without it, and 2) because GOD needs us to do so if he is ALSO to be the One he wills to be. Once again, our's is a God who has chosen and determined not to remain alone; he has chosen and determined that his lfe and our own are to be intimately linked, inextricably wed, in a Communion of shared destiny.

God-with-us certainly refers to the infant in Mary's womb as we approach the baby's nativity, but it also very much refers to the Communion God desires be born in our own hearts. Emmanuel, God-with-us, is the name given the truly human heart. It is the name given to anyone who fulfills their truest destiny, by allowing God to be God for, with, and within us.

Advent, week 3: Alfred Delp, sj

Are you a person
whose concerns are with God?
Are you a person of whom it can be said
that your heart and mind are filled
with a peace that supasses all comprehension?
Oh, that we could be such people again,
intrinsically filled to the brim ---
not only with the knowledge,
but with the personal, prayed-in,
and wrestled-in reality and abundance
of our Lord God!

Alfred Delp, sj
Third Sunday of Advent, 1944

Our parish hosted a visiting priest this last Sunday, and he spoke about Fr. Alfred Delp, also a Jesuit who was executed by the Nazi's for treason. Delp's writings from prison and some of his Advent meditations and homilies had been inspiring to this priest since he was a novice, and he recommended them to us. The above is taken from the book, Advent of the Heart, Seasonal Sermons and Prison Writings 1941-1944. It was written just weeks before he was hanged. The book is terrific and I will add it to the list at the right. I may also post excerpts of one of his homilies for the third week of Advent.

Week 3: Advent 2007

I have continued thinking about the human heart as a relational or dialogical reality. I have also been thinking about the clear contemplative sense that we are called to be taken up into the very life of the Trinity itself,that is, into the very heart of God, where deep (God within) calls to deep (God without), and our lives (as words of this one God) become ultimately and definitively contextualized, and so, ultimately significant, ultimately meaningful. With regard to the human heart, Advent speaks so clearly: we are to make ready this dwelling place of the Lord, for the One who will dwell in the relative barrenness of our lives, and make of them a flourishing garden, wills to live here in smallness and obscurity --- often unrecognized even by the one who's heart it is.

It is striking to me that Benedictine spirituality is so strong regarding hospitality. It is a nonnegotiable element of the Rule of St Benedict and of Benedictine spirituality --- even for hermits! And yet, it is all rooted in the centrality of the Incarnation to our faith, and to our very being as well. We recognize that our monasteries or hermitages are meant to be places of authentic hospitality, not merely of other people -- though of course this is true since others are Christ's presence and imago --- but of God himself, for our's is a God who wills to dwell amongst us. Of course, we know that in our prayer we do indeed create (or allow the Spirit to create!) a climate or environment of hospitality where God may dwell, but before our monasteries or hermitages become places of authentic hospitality, our hearts must first be transformed into cells of attentive love where God is entirely at home.

In Advent, we look towards the beginning of the "definitive incarnation" of God among us. We focus on the fact that he comes to dwell with us and becomes embodied in human flesh, and we refer to the second coming, but do we look enough at our own lives, our own hearts as the PLACE where that second coming is realized? How often do we consider that our own hearts are the wombs where God will become(or will be prevented from becoming) newly incarnated in our world, and where in fact, we "make up for what is lacking" in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus? Afterall, these are the places, the events where God speaks himself and us/our names --- looking for the responses we will be as we allow him to be God-with-us. These are the mangers in which new nativities are birthed, the arenas in which new martyrdoms are born and acted out, new missions discerned and motivated, and the sovereignty of God transformed into the Kingdom of authentic freedom and peace which will eventually transform the whole world. It is our hearts that are the contexts for genuine Christmas, and in Advent we focus on their preparation, purification, healing and capacity for hospitality.

The Subversion of our Life Stories: the Coming of the Kingdom.

In reflecting on the Lord's Prayer this Advent, I came to understand the Kingdom of God as an ongoing, but yet-to-be-realized event, and that, with the particular character of story. Still, it is not simply a story talked about or narrated to others (though this may also occur); it is a story enacted, a Word event enfleshed, the dabar or Logos of God incarnated in human history. The challenge for each of us I think, is to make this story our own --- or rather, to accept the place in it which God offers and calls us to accept. The problem? We already reside rather securely in other stories, other controlling narratives and myths which define who we are and what is success and failure, piety and impiety, truth and untruth, poverty and enrichedness, etc, etc. The story which is God's Kingdom promises to subvert these other narratives and myths; conversion means embracing this process and accepting a place in this parable of God with its new perspectives, new way of seeing, understanding, valuing and loving, etc.

Human beings are storytelling and storylistening beings. We are "hardwired" for stories. It is part of the fabric of our very being. We belong to and long for story because story contextualizes our lives, and contextualization gives meaning to them, or better, allows them in one way and another to realize the meaningfulness they are capable of. It gives our lives a trajectory and aim to follow or accomplish, values to embody, a role or roles to act out. But this means that some stories serve us better than others. Some will distort us, or allow us to develop in only this way or that while ignoring other potentials for meaning we have. And, because we really are part of a larger story and MADE FOR story, it means also that we will naturally embrace or adopt some unworthy controlling myths and narratives unconsciously as well as consciously, and be relatively unaware of their role in defining us.

When Jesus told parables he did so for two related reasons: first, to identify and subvert some of the less than authentic controlling myths people had adopted as their own, and second to offer the opportunity to make a choice for an alternative story by which one could live an authentically human and holy life. Parables, Jesus' parables that is, throw down two sets of values, two perspectives beside one another (para = alongside, and balein = to throw down). One set represents the Kingdom of God; one the kingdom where God is not sovereign. The resulting clash disorients us; it is unexpected and while first freeing us to some extent from our embeddedness in other narratives, summons us to choose which reality we will inhabit, which story will define us, which sovereign will author us. Will (to whatever extent) we affirm the status quo, the normal cultural or religious narrative, or will (to whatever extent) we instead allow our minds and hearts to be remade and adopt a different story as our own? Who will author us, the dominant culture, or the God who relativizes it?

In church each year we begin the narrative again. We recount God's own story in the Christ event beginning with the history preceding the nativity and culminating in it as the first chapter of the incarnation. A God who comes to us, to actually dwell with us in obscurity and littleness is a scandalous God, and yet, the story is not yet so threatening as it becomes at Lent. Still, we are invited to allow it to begin to shape us and our expectations of what is truly human and what is truly divine. We are invited to allow it to begin to subvert the stories by which we have made sense of our lives up until now. But this will mean spending some time identifying the non-Christian stories which are or have been operative in our lives up until this point.

And here we begin to see the purpose of Advent: to allow us time to do this kind of identifying, to locate the values we have embraced, the themes and characters which mark a successful life apart from Christ, the goals and purposes which have devoured our energies and claimed our love where something other than God was sovereign, the definitions of central human realities (e.g., justice, peace, success, failure, freedom, bondage, richness, poverty, strength, weakness, holiness, piety, godlessness, etc) which have captured our minds and hearts and which God's reign contradicts and redefines. God's Kingdom comes as a story we can accept or reject, trivialize and sentimentalize or respect and elaborate appropriately. It comes with sets of values we may find unpalatable and unpopular, and a protagonist we may find either scandalous or foolish depending upon whether we are conventionally religious or commonly wise or intelligent. It comes to us clothed in swaddling and proclaiming majesty in a manger. And it comes to us offering a context for our lives we cannot create for ourselves, a context which will make meaningful or senseless so much of who we already are and are called to become.

Personally, I will be spending the rest of this Advent trying to identify the elements of my story which still define me apart from Christ: the bits of script which recur from childhood even now, the values I have never fully let go of, the expectations which this culture both blatantly and insidiously inculcates on a daily basis and which I have allowed to shape my own mind and heart. To some extent the Kingdom of God IS my story; it has adopted me, and I have embraced it as well. But, like rereading a familiar and well-loved book, it can always be more completely appropriated and elements of alien controlling myths more completely relinquished. Make straight the paths of the Lord, we are told: let the valleys be raised, and the hills be made low. But the prophet might as well have said, "Listen! Examine your stories! Time to cut a few chapters, characters, themes, and restructure the plotline! Time to make this God's OWN story, not a tale he has a bit part in or no real ongoing role as author! Time to let him subvert the story you have been living and make a parable out of your life! Time to become aware of all those things which no longer (or never did) serve the REAL story! Time to enflesh the NAME God has called you by from all eternity. Time to be HIS story.

Week 2, Advent 2007

It is true that the human heart is the "place where God bears witness to himself", and that therefore there is an ongoing dynamic and unremitting hallowing going on in the very core of our being. This profound reality seems a tremendous miracle and an awesome picture of what constitutes the human person. And yet, wondrous as it is, it is only a portion of the picture, a part of what constitutes us as human in regard to God, a portion of how it is we are related to the One who wills to dwell with us and to reconcile all things in and through himself. For it is not only true that God dwells within us, but it is also true that he exists outside of us, and in fact, is that ultimate reality within which we move and have our being.

Many images may be used to refer to this ultimate context of our lives, but the most intimate remain "womb", and "heart." We often have the image of a God who remains distant from us, remote and hard to reach or hear. In the sense that God is wholly other than we are, there is some truth in these images. And yet, what is also true is that God is the communion of being and love IN WHICH we are called to exist and out of which we are called to reach out to others. Whether we envision this reality as a womb, or a heart, or even a Word or story which we are allowed to enter and which calls us to rest securely within, ours is a God who in this way also has chosen not to remain alone.

When combined with the image of the Word or song of God dwelling actively within our own hearts, we have a really awesome portrait of human existence: we are made for divinity both within and without. God calls to us, and to Godself within us, from without; he summons us to greater and greater degrees of communion, greater and greater degrees of identification with himself. Word calls to Word; it seeks its own completion, reconciliation, or perfection in this way. And so too do we reach our own completion and perfection in this way. Just as an isolated word has no meaning without context, so too do our own lives remain senseless unless the Word spoken deep within our hearts, that Name by which God calls us to be, also comes to rest in the Word/Story which comes to us from outside. Augustine said it more simply: Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.

Advent is a time of preparation. We prepare our hearts, not only that God has a wider or more spacious place to dwell within them, but so that they may accept a place we are each offered in the infinite heart of God as well. We prepare our hearts so the Word God speaks within us will be able to be more perfectly attuned to the Word he speaks outside us. We prepare our hearts so that they may be more able to embrace their own place in the story which is God's Kingdom, their own seat at the Wedding banquet, their own role in the nativity of God-with-us in our world. In our own hearts the Word of God looks for an opening into our world; in our hearts God seeks a way to become personally present to his creation. But at the same time our hearts are summoned to rest in God's own heart, to allow deep to call to deep, and to be the everyday, day-in-and-day-out, kinds of mystics Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were. It is this double relationship to God's own Life that constitutes authentically human existence --- a kind of parabolic (parable-ish) existence which witnesses to and introduces others to the drama of communion we call Trinity --- and it is the birth of this kind of existence our continuing Advent preparations envision and facilitate.

A New Year Begins: Week 1; Advent 2007

To everyone who visits these pages, I extend my sincerest wishes for a wonderful and very prayerful and fruitful Advent! We rejoice that ours is a God who, while completely self-sufficient in and of himself, and in need of no one or nothing outside himself, has also chosen from the beginning not to remain alone. Going out of himself, he creates the cosmos, and emptying himself of his divine prerogatives he wills the free response of those who would be his own; he creates, allows (and summons) that creation to evolve to greater and greater levels of complexity, rejoices as humanity-on-the-way-to-God comes to be, calls out of this humanity a special people who would be his in a special way, and waits for One to come out of this people who will incarnate his Word as uniquely beloved Son.



In Advent we prepare for the coming of this One, the Christ who reveals (makes known and makes real in space and time) true and authentic humanity marking us as called by name and capable of calling upon God in the same way. He is the one who exhaustively embodies the mutual story we call the Kingdom of God, the shared covanental destiny of God and humanity worked out in history. He is the one we know as Jesus, and the God he makes known is the One who comes amongst us in weakness and lowliness. May your preparations this year be fruitful and profound, and may you come more and more in your own lives to be drawn fully into the story of this One we call Messiah.

In time of daffodils

Painting, Blue Lilies, by Sister Kristine Haugen, ocdh (Link to Sister's hermitage and art can be found in the second (lower and darker blue) right hand column; please check these out!)
__________________________

in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if, remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me, remember me

e.e.cummings (16 of 95 Poems)

". . . Not my will, but Thine be done!" (or, "Jesus, Son of David, Have pity on me!!")

As part of a Communion service today, I did a reflection on the readings. I had agreed to do this service several weeks ago since the parish would be without a priest for today, and I first looked at the readings back then. I read the first lection from 2 Macc. where some of the Jews made relatively small compromises with the surrounding culture which eventually led them to fall away from their faith and headlong into apostasy, and I thought, "Yes, people could hear something helpful on that theme. Easy enough to do something on this!" But when I read on, I knew immediately that I did not want to talk about today's Gospel: "Please," I thought, "Not a healing miracle! I can't talk about such a lection!" (If you weren't at Mass today, it was the Lukan story of Jesus stopping on his way to Jericho to heal a blind beggar who calls out to him, "Jesus, Son of David, Have pity on me!!" Jesus asks him in return, "What do you want me to do for you?" and the beggar says, "I would like to see again." Jesus heals him and announces that his faith has made him whole.

Unfortunately, it took some time before I asked myself directly why it was this was such a problem for me, or went back to really do some serious lectio with this reading and the first one as well. When I did, the answer was embarrassing --- and not particularly edifying either, as that old-fashioned and VERY helpful word goes. Instead of saying to myself, "I can't talk about such a lection, " I should probably have said more openly, "I can't talk about such a lection to an intellectually sophisticated, well-educated group of 21st century folks; afterall, does God really work this way in our lives today?" And of course, the answer I implicitly provided was, "No, certainly he does not! He is not an interventionist God reaching in from outside to change the laws of physics and biology. Instead he works THROUGH these laws, he gifts physicians and scientists with the power to make well, and does his miracles in that way!" (Neither would it occur to us to blame people who are not healed for inadequate faith. No, our sciences, spirituality, and theology are more 'sophisticated' than this.)

As someone who deals with chronic illness on an ongoing basis, I have certainly prayed for miraculous healing in the past. But I realized that some years ago I stopped praying for physical healing, and, at least ostensibly adopted Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane as the "way to go" in the matter of petitionary prayer: "Not my will, but thine be done!" There were good and legitimate reasons for doing so: 1) God was NOT healing me or willing that I be healed (at least not apparently!), nor was medical science particularly effective either, 2) I needed to come to terms with the losses and disappointments associated with the illness, and I needed to see the value in it, if there was any, 3) I needed REALLY to bend my will to God's in this, and come to model my life on Jesus' more completely (that is, I needed for my will to be shaped in this way by the power of God's love), 4) I needed to move past any self-centeredness, any untoward focus on self and come to terms with present reality in a way which opened up the future as well. It did not hurt that others seemed to think this prayer of Jesus (". . .Not my will, but thine. . ."), was theologically and spiritually more sophisticated and less naive than prayers for miraculous healing. Nor did it hurt that moving on to this next "phase" of prayer seemed nobler, more pious, and also, that it allowed me to neglect looking at the inadequacy of my faith, or my fear of being completely in touch with how badly I wanted to be healed.

But today's Gospel struck me with what I had hidden from myself, what I had forgotten about Jesus' prayer, and what I knew from my own more profound prayer experiences. First, that this prayer of Jesus was only a PART of his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane; as important as it was, it took a long time of pouring out his heart to his Father regarding what he really wanted, what he was profoundly terrified of, what he grieved losing, and what it was that really made him vulnerable in this world to GET TO this point --- to reach this conclusion and goal of authentic and kenotic living. Secondly, it was only in such vulnerability that he was truly and completely open to the Father's will: only in radically asking for what he wanted was Jesus open to the possibility that God might allow this cup to pass from him, and so too, to the possibility that God might indeed will something different for him at this point in time. And thirdly, that it was only in believing/knowing that God COULD work a miracle right here and now ("O God all things are possible for you!"), that Jesus actually came to know fully that God's will for him was different than this.

It seemed significant to me that in today's Gospel, Jesus does not ask the blind beggar what God's will is, or even what it is he needs. Jesus asks instead, "What would you have me do for you?" Of course, there is no indication the beggar KNOWS his plea will be answered positively in the very terms stated, but there is no doubt he knows his plea CAN be answered positively; what Jesus asks for from him is that he pour out his own heart in the matter, that he risk entrusting himself to Jesus on this level. The prayer of the beggar is indeed self-centered; it reflects his own deepest wishes. It is not cast in terms of the nobler sounding, "Not my will but thine be done." And yet eventually and paradoxically, it is precisely through the beggar's radical self-centeredness and resulting vulnerability that God is truly glorified and the beggar is open to His greater will being done. We do not glorify God if our prayer remains self-centered, of course, but neither will our prayer be sensitive to the will of God, much less glorify him, if we simply neglect or side-step this aspect of it.

In today's first reading Jews compromise their faith and fall into abject apostasy. By leaving behind the practice of praying for healing (in EVERY sense!) as well as failing to believe God COULD do a miracle right here and now, and adopting only the second part of Jesus' prayer, I am afraid I did something similar. In the name of scientific and theological sophistication (and avoiding owning up to the lack of courage and vulnerability REALLY involved in praying for a miracle), I actually left behind an integral part of my own faith and prayer, for from my own prayer I have experienced God's powerful presence, and have been convinced he CAN heal from within our world, from within us, in fact. I wonder how often something similar happens to each of us as we search for and try to adopt an authentic Christian faith in our contemporary world?

We want to have a critical rather than a naive faith. We want, of course, to pray and live in a way that says, "Not My will, but thine be done!" But today's Gospel reminds us that we do not come to this point without painful and risky pouring out of our hearts to God. We do not come to a genuine submission to the will of God in our lives if on some level we have ALSO foreclosed the possibility that God CAN and (sometimes at least!) WILL heal us miraculously right here and right now. Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane IS a model for us, but it is his WHOLE prayer there that is our paradigm. While Jesus' affirmation is our goal, we do not reach it without the neuralgic and sometimes messy egocentric baring of our hearts to him. Only in this way do we really remain open to and come to know what his will actually is; only in this way do we move beyond such self-centeredness and bend our own wills (or rather, allow them to be bent) to his. Only in this way do we come to understand that ultimately, the cry, "Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!" IS the prayer that God's will will be done!

The Lord's Prayer: Initiation into a life of Invocation (brief)

With Advent nearing I am looking afresh at the Lord's Prayer. After all, it summarizes what Jesus' vocation was all about, how he prayed, how he lived, what had priority for him, and what, by extension, constitutes Christian existence. Learning to pray this prayer is not a one-time task, and recitation of it is not without risks and challenges. Instead, we are invited to learn to pray as Jesus did, to pour ourselves into its petitions, day by day and "layer" of self by layer of self. It calls us, and provides a concrete way, to allow our hearts and lives to be shaped as Jesus' was. Yes, it teaches us to pray rightly, but more, it initiates us into a life of prayer; more correctly said perhaps, it molds and shapes us into the very prayers we are called to BE. (I am convinced that the admonition to "pray always" is a statement of the purpose of human life, and that prayer is not only an activity we are to undertake, but something we are to become. When we call Jesus "the Word made Flesh," we really are calling him an incarnate prayer, a Word event whose whole being glorifies (reveals and allows God to be) God in space and time.)


One of the things that comes up again and again is just how deceptively familiar the prayer is for us. We recite it daily, sometimes several times a day; and yet, almost every petition holds surprises for us. We simply don't know what the words mean or what they summon us to. The invocation is a particularly striking example. Luke's version of the prayer has simply, "Pater" (or "Abba"), while Matthew's has the more litugically suited and formed, "Our Father, who Art in Heaven!" Some people in parishes have problems calling God "Father," because they treat the word as a metaphor, and as an instance of human patriarchy or paternalism writ-very-large. Others love that God is called "abba, pater" because it apotheosizes or raises to divine level their own patriarchal pretensions. And yet, both groups have gotten something very basic wrong, namely, the invocation to the Lord's Prayer is not merely a metaphor describing divinity's "paternalness" --- one characteristic among others including maternalness. It is instead a NAME, and as a name it is symbol, not merely metaphor, and it FUNCTIONS as a name does. The Lord's Prayer begins with the revelation of and permission to invoke God BY NAME even if Matt's elaborate formulation obscures this for English readers. In Christ we are allowed, and in fact, empowered by the Holy Spirit, to call upon God as Abba, where Abba is a personal word of address which does far less to describe God than it does to give him a personal place to stand in our world.

We will miss this though, if we do not move beyond the prayer's familiarity and treat the invocation as a description of or metaphor for God. Remember, for instance, that the word "Abba" is in the vocative case, the case used for direct address. Remember that Jesus used the term "Abba" with a unique intimacy and familiarity, not as a description of God, but as direct address and name. Remember that his usage was unprecedented in Palestinian Judaism (Judiasm of the diaspora was somewhat different), not only because Jews tended to avoid referring to God as Abba (pagans did that all the time!), or because using Abba as a name and speaking it directly was too presumptuous (Divine names were not spoken or even written out), but also because the times they did refer to God as Father, it was in a collective sense and more metaphor or descriptor than name. Remember too that in Matt's day people LONGED to know both the REAL Name of God, and that their prayer was truly effective. So desperate were they that they stood on street corners reading from magic papyri which listed every known name of God. When Matthew warns us about using empty words in our prayers this is the practice he is referring to, a practice driven by the need to know and invoke God by name --- a need to pray with genuine authority and power.

But, along comes Jesus with his unique relationship with this One he calls by name as Abba, thus addressing God with an unheard of familiarity and intimacy. He speaks, lives, and teaches with a new kind of authority. To put it plainly, Jesus is on a first name basis with God; he speaks in the NAME of God. Their relationship is unique and the exchanges between them equally so. When we attend to his prayer, we see that Jesus calls upon God BY NAME as "Abba, Father." He gives this One a personal place to stand in the world in the way only invocation can do, invocation in both narrower and broader senses: that is, addressing or calling upon another by name and living one's life in the name of that other implicating them in all one is and does. Jesus reveals (makes real in space and time) a new Name for God. God is no longer simply the One who will be (present with us as) who he will be (present with us) [ehyeh asher ehyeh, YHWH]; he is Abba, and the One whom he will be is revealed definitively in Christ. By extension, Christians are those marked by this name, who, through the adoption of baptism live within its power and presence, who "call upon" or invoke God in this way. It is the symbol or name marking our vocation in this world, just as it marked that of Jesus.

As I have written here before, the life of Christian prayer is a life of invocation. The task before us and which we reflect on anew each Advent is to learn and embrace what it means to live as those who call upon and live life in the Name of another --- and not just any other, but the One Jesus revealed as "Abba, Father." The Lord's Prayer initiates us into this life, and the first line, the only non-petition in the entire prayer, embodies or symbolizes the whole of this vocation. It is both invitation and challenge: not only to take this Name upon our lips, but to glorify the name of God with our lives, to become those who truly are adopted daughters and sons of the One we call Abba, Father.

Painting of the Return of the Prodigal Son

Living With and In the Eucharistic Presence

Apparently, it is a surprise to some people that canonical or diocesan hermits are allowed to reserve Eucharist in their "cells" or hermitages, and also, as solitaries, to self-communicate during a Communion service on those days when it is impossible to get to or have someone come in to say Mass. More than surprise, there is dismay, indignation and concern for the legalities of such a situation. The idea that Bishops approve Rules of Life which may describe this arrangement for reserving and receiving Eucharist seems to be anathema to these folks, and they suggest that it is not surprising reverence for the Eucharist is supposedly declining in the post Vatican II Church given such praxis and permission. The idea, on the other hand, that a hermit might actually enhance reverence for the Eucharist through such praxis seems not to have occurred to them.

The history of eremitical reservation of the Eucharist is as old as eremitical life itself. The following is EWTN's description of the situation: [[Under the impact of this faith, the early hermits reserved the Eucharist in their cells. From at least the middle of the third century, it was very usual for the solitaries in the East, especially in Palestine and Egypt, to preserve the consecrated elements in the caves or hermitages where they lived. The immediate purpose of this reservation was to enable the hermits to give themselves Holy Communion. But these hermits were too conscious of what the Real Presence was not to treat it with great reverence and not to think of it as serving a sacred purpose by just being nearby.]] See also: Notes from Stillsong Hermitage: On the Reservation of Eucharist by Hermits

Recently I had the occasion to hear actual accusations that the Eucharistic praxis here at Stillsong detracts from reverence for the Eucharist and belief in the Real Presence because I am allowed to open the tabernacle, open the ciborium, and remove the Eucharist so that I may receive it in Communion. Given the contents of this blog thus far (there is nothing in text or pictures which points to a lack of appropriate reverence for the Eucharist), I found the accusations disingenuous, and beyond pointing out that my Rule of Life was accepted by my Bishop and had been thoroughly checked over by several canonists, I sought to move the discussion to greater levels of reflection, and more significant Eucharistic questions than the important but BEGINNING questions about legality and conditions of reservation and reception. I think these are the questions that any hermit, consecrated virgin, or religious considers when they live with the Eucharist in their most intimate space. While none of us is worthy of the privilege of retaining and receiving the Eucharist in such solitary circumstances (or any other for that matter), the simple fact is I live with what I consider to be much more profound questions and demands because of the Eucharistic presence and reception here in Stillsong. I honor the canons on proper reservation and reverence toward the Eucharist, of course, but they are merely the starting point for a life of living with Jesus in the Eucharist.

So what questions, does this raise for me? What ARE the questions I live with which help challenge and define me and my Eucharistic adoration? Well, they are more foundational and more concerned with going beyond the letter of the Law than the concerns and questions of the accusers. For instance, what is it that constitutes appropriate worship of Eucharist? How should it function in our lives in order to indicate a GENUINE and even PROFOUND belief in the real presence? Is it enough to adore it remotely, or are we to consume and be consumed by it to truly adore it? What are the dangers of someone having Eucharist in their hermitage or home (as in CV's or religious Sisters and Brothers) --- assuming normal prudence and limited access of others to the Eucharist? How does one protect against such dangers? What are the benefits and what does such a thing say to others ABOUT the Eucharist? How would having Eucharist in one's hermitage, home, or cell change the way one relates to her environment? Does the idea of worship begin to change? Should and does it, for instance, come to envelop the smallest thing one does so that the most ordinary tasks become a matter of worship?

All of these questions are part and parcel of Eucharistically oriented prayer. They are certainly questions someone who LIVES WITH the Eucharist considers on a regular basis. And then of course, there are the very personal questions about one's own living and loving, one's being and failing to be what the Eucharist calls us to be. They are questions about the state of one's heart, the way in which one really serves or fails to serve the God who reveals himself as God-with-us in every moment and mood of our day. How has one grown in prayer? In service to the Church and World? How is the dialogue with God which one IS, maturing and coming to greater articulation because of the constant Eucharistic presence? How has it failed to happen and what are we being called to that very day or hour? How constant is the state of gratitude one finds oneself in in light of living with such a precious gift? How pervasive is the sense of giftedness in all things? How aware is one of the capacities of the most ordinary piece of reality to mediate the presence of a Living God? And how well has one maintained an environment of silence, solitude, prayer, penance, AND hospitality which are appropriate to one living with such a Presence?

The questions of canons regarding appropriate reservation and communication of the Eucharist, are important questions initially, but for one to really REVERENCE and WORSHIP the Eucharist as it is meant to be, one needs to move to all those more profound and personal questions, questions of relationship, questions of vulnerability, questions of increased sensitivity and true worship --- especially worship which embraces the most ordinary and everyday aspects of one's day. (When one lives in the presence of the Eucharist, and with a presence lamp always burning, it tends to encourage one to superimpose these images onto every place and situation into which one enters. Everyone and every place becomes holy, and potentially eucharistic.) Those who are allowed to reserve and receive Eucharist in solitary circumstances (hermits, CV's, small houses with a single vowed religious) serve the Church by raising all these questions (and forcing others to raise them instead of remaining simply on the level of law); so too do they serve the church by becoming a living symbol of the realm where the Eucharist is REALLY and visibly central in an individual's life, and without which the individual would be very much more alone and even bereft.

It seems to me that such questions point to a profound (if ever-growing) reverence for the Eucharist and commitment to the Real Presence --- even where the quality of these things needs to continue to mature and deepen every day. I suppose I also think that remaining on the level of Law in one's considerations of eremitical praxis today in regard to Eucharistic reservation and reception represents its own form of lack of reverence and failure to worship the Eucharist appropriately. No hermit could live this life and take Eucharist for granted or fail to genuinely and profoundly worship and reverence it. More, I think every hermit must (and does!) develop a practical or pastoral theology of worship which extends to the most ordinary moments and moods of one's day --- because these moments occur in the Eucharistic Presence, that is, they occur in an environment which is completely oriented towards and conditioned by that Presence. I think this leads to genuine reverence, a more profound reverence than might otherwise be the case, and a theology of worship which is more adequate than one which brackets Eucharist off from everyday life and circumstances even while surrounding its reservation with the appropriate, but relatively remote trappings of more usual Eucharistic adoration.

The original accusations stung a bit; they were directed to precisely where I care the most and so, am most vulnerable in some ways. However, they also served to allow me to reflect on the kinds of questions and challenges that are more important and far reaching than those of rubrics or law, but which are also served by those rubrics and law. So, I come away grateful for those persons who raised the issues and objected that such praxis as found in hermitages and the residences of CV's throughout the world contributes to the decline of Eucharistic worship and reverence. In so doing, they allowed me to begin reflecting anew on what Eucharistic reverence and worship really consists of. They return me anew to the center I had never really left. For this, I owe them my profoundest thanks!