Problems Related to the Misuse of Canon 603 by Non-Canonical Communities

I wrote a post awhile back defending the linkage between Diocesan Hermits and specific spiritual traditions. What I argued there was that specific spiritualities (Benedictine, Franciscan, Camaldolese, et al) could contribute to rather than detract from the diocesan charism of the diocesan hermit. Hermits are part of both eremitical/monastic and, if they are diocesan, cathedral traditions and can draw from both in living out their eremitical lives. However, as I have also written in other posts, the diocesan hermit is first of all Diocesan, not Camaldolese, not Carthusian, etc. Better perhaps, they are Diocesan who MAY apply various spiritualities to their commitments as Diocesan. In particular they are not hermits who are merely using Canon 603 to circumvent the inability of a non-canonical community to profess members canonically. This would indeed, as the author of the Sponsa Christi blog wrote three months ago, defeat the purpose of being diocesan. More than that, in my estimation, it would be dishonest and create problems on a number of different levels.

The fundamental difficulty (or set of difficulties) relates to a lack of clarity as to what is the primary context for one's eremitical life. Is it one's community or is it one's diocese and parish? I have already seen one case where someone ostensibly professed under canon 603 approached the entire admission to profession to his Bishop (and to the public) as a canonical profession in community; canon 603 was supposedly the usual means the community's hermits used to make solemn profession. Because the community's status was misrepresented to the Bishop (inadvertently by the candidate for profession who was also deceived to some extent!) he later determined the vows made were private not public vows. (The situation is more complex than this, but this is enough of the "gist" of it to point to the kinds of confusions that can occur when Canon 603 is misused in this way.) One question in particular this raises then (others follow) is has one embraced eremitism because one has accepted the charism of diocesan eremitism? Or is this merely a way of achieving canonical profession when one's community is not allowed to profess canonically? Is one's profession first of all an expression of one's commitment to parish and diocese and does it especially reflect the kind of stability such a commiment implies, or is it an expression of one's more primary commitment to a religious community?

Problems regarding discernment and formation are pieces of this fundamental difficulty with context. First discernment: who is the primary ecclesial representative in the process of discernment? Is it the diocese, that is the Bishop and his representatives, or is it the community, and if a non-canonical community then who has discerned and formed the vocations of the formators? Is the Bishop admitting to profession (or presiding at the profession) on behalf of the community, or under the authority of Canon 603, and who will be the hermit's legitimate superior? Likewise, has the hermit candidate herself truly discerned a vocation to diocesan eremitism or is Canon 603 being used because access to it seems to be less difficult than the canons governing religious life and the foundation of institutes?

Questions relating to formation would also need to be raised then. Who is in charge of formation for such a hermit? Is it non-hermit members who are themselves not canonically professed and not preparing for this? Beyond this but related to it as well, who, besides the hermit herself, is responsible to the church for the this vocation? Who attests to it in the name of the Church? Who nurtures it and is officially responsible for its continued development and integrity? When a person petitions for Canon 603 status and admission to profession and consecration in this way, the Bishop and his own diocesan officials are responsible for discernment. They are also responsible for being sure adequate initial and continuing formation is gotten by the candidate or professed hermit. If a community is involved then does the Bishop or the community have the primary say in formation and discernment? (And of course, is this completely understood by all involved?) Who follows through on all of this; who is the legitimate superior? (In the situation described above, the Bishop told the person to go to his community for permissions, advice, etc. They, on the other hand told him to go to his Bishop as his "legitimate superior." Neither would take responsibility for the hermit and as a result, he fell through gaping cracks that should not have been there and would not have been had Canon 603 not been abused in the way it was.)

Related to both discernment and formation is the further question of who writes the Rule of life? In Canon 603 what we read is that the hermit lives her own Plan of life under the direction of the diocesan Bishop. While it is not stated specifically, I understand this as implying the person writes her own Rule. Why is this important? Why not just borrow a Rule that has already been written and approved, whether by another hermit, a community or Congregation, etc? Well, in this matter I think the Church has shown real wisdom, and I grow to appreciate it more and more as I see individuals borrowing from or adopting Rules they did not write themselves. In a situation demanding serious discernment of a vocation one of the primary ways to ascertain the nature and quality of the vocation one has is to look at how the hermit candidate lives her life. More, one needs to see the theology that informs it, the reasons for embracing the life, the values, goals, and practices underpinning and motivating it. The very best way to do this apart from (but along with) private interviews is to look at a Rule or Plan of Life which an individual hermit has herself written.

Not only is the writing of a personal Rule a tremendously demanding and probative exercise, it is also one of the most powerfully consolidating and formative exercises a hermit will undertake in preparing for profession and consecration. (By the way, it is an exercise I would recommend to anyone preparing for vows, whether under Canon 603 or as a member of a Congregation under another Rule. If you choose to take on such an exercise allow several weeks for its completion beyond the weeks and months you take considering it prior to actual writing.) To bypass this requirement of Canon 603 and allow the hermit to simply adopt a Rule which she herself has not written is to miss a particularly important element in the discernment AND formation processes. The results may be very disappointing, and they will surely mean that the hermit candidate misses an important opportunity to clarify and claim her own journey as completely as possible; additionally they will mean a failure to clearly embrace the charism of diocesan hermit (as opposed to being a religious hermit in a community with its own Rule). It is this I think the author of "Sponsa Christi" was partly referring to in her own blog, and if so, then she was completely correct in this.

Some canonists have been clear that Canon 603 is not to be used to give canonical status to members of non-canonical communities who cannot grant such status themselves. It is NOT meant to be a way of skirting the process and issues in becoming canonical as a community. As I have written before, there is a reason my Diocese insisted on the formula at the beginning of my vow formula per se: "I earnestly desire to respond to the gift of vocation to the eremitical life . . . as a solitary hermit." While I am an Oblate with Transfiguration Monastery, and am in that sense Camaldolese Benedictine, I am first of all a Diocesan Hermit, not a religious one. While I can join other diocesan hermits in a Lavra, I remain a solitary hermit with my OWN Rule of Life, eventhough that is subsumed under the Rule of Benedict and the Constitutions of the Camaldolese. (I must say that my command of the Benedictine Rule, or its command of me is still in its infancy, and while I live by it as PART of what my own Rule enjoins on me, I am very glad to be bound to my own Rule which, at this point in time at least, is far and away more intimately expressive of who I am and who I feel called to be.) While I maintain a good relationship with (my) Prioress (and one which is formative and supportive) my legitimate superior is my Bishop and those he has appointed or delegated. Above all then, my commitment is to diocese and parish and my stability is here. This is the charism I have discovered and embraced in accepting profession and consecration according to Canon 603. It is what I seek to reflect in the adoption of the initials recently authorized by my Bishop. This, I think, is what Canon 603 envisioned and continues to envision; to attempt to use the Canon in other ways is to betray not only its spirit but its very content.

One final note: my concern with this is not a concern for law for law's sake. As I have written in other posts the unique charism of the diocesan hermit can be framed or expressed in terms of expectations which others necessarily may have because of the hermit's status as canonical AND diocesan. These expectations are a direct outgrowth of discernment, formation, supervision, authorization, and commitment and consecration. While it is true that the non-canonical hermit may live the basic characteristics of the eremitic life as well as or even better than the diocesan hermit she does not share in their unique charism nor are others allowed to necessarily have the same expectations they have of someone with canonical standing. Canon 603 is meant to ensure the solitary eremitical life of the diocesan hermit and to do so on behalf of the church and world.

Festival of Light, Sept 14th, 2008

The Cathedral of Christ the Light celebrated the setting of the foundations stones (one old one from our old Cathedral of St Francis de Sales), the blessing (and filling) of the baptismal pool, the blessing of the ambry and installation of the sacred chrisms the Cathedral will use for baptisms, confirmations, ordinations, and anointing of the sick, the blessing of the stations of the cross, and various other sacred art including the crucifix in the ambo. The liturgy was wonderful and very powerful. The portion I personally participated in was the transfer of water from my parish baptismal font to the new baptismal pool in Christ the Light. After being sent forth with a pitcher of holy water from our own parish fonts, pitcher bearers processed from the site of the old to the new Cathedrals and then into the new space. Water from Lourdes Shrine, St Peter's Basilica, the River Jordan, and our local Lake Merritt, as well as each of the 84 parishes in the diocese were emptied into the once-empty font.

Baptismal Font (Great doors and parish flags in the background)

The entire celebration was very powerful and moving. It was especially powerful seeing both Bp John Cummins and Bp Allen Vigneron acting equally in the blessing of the stations of the cross, for instance. I have included some pictures from the Cathedral below. There are others, and I hope I can put them up as well. Especially beautiful is all the wood, and of course the place of light in the whole. It is simple and elegant. For me personally one of the details I found most moving was the form and style of the confessionals: stark, and yet warmed by the wood and light, they involve as "S" shaped wooden screen (built from blocks of polished wood) with a simple wooden chair on each side in the niches formed by the curves of the screen. It could not be clearer that what occurs here occurs between a person and God with the mediation of the priest. Nothing else is needed, no other supports and no props --- nothing to cling to in terms of roles or worldly success. It is a powerful mix of intimacy and solitude and reminds us to remember (claim and be consoled by) who we are before God.

Confessional (Section in center swings open to allow face to face confession)

Crucifix in Ambo
New Tabernacle. (Tabernacle opens from the back; there is a smaller chapel of reservation behind the wooden screen in this picture.)
Main floral setting during celebration
Bishop's Coat of Arms (I will change this for the finished one at another time. The tan colored sections actually hide brilliant silver work which was seen only on the day of dedication.)
Corpus in one of the side chapels (Meant to accent the Spanish and Mexican dimension of CA history.)

See also the earlier post for the image of Christ as pantocrator (Christ in Majesty) formed by light on inner panels on the wall above the Altar. This is the most striking aspect of the the Cathedral, and though I have not yet seen it, is apparently visible at night outside the Cathedral when light inside projects the image outward.

Lighten Our Darkness

This is the first paragraph of the introduction to Douglas John Hall's, Lighten Our Darkness, Toward an Indigenous Theology of the Cross Because we are celebrating the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross on Sunday, and because I will be writing more on that in response to some questions I received, I wanted to post this. First, it is a fine paragraph in and of itself. Secondly, the tension between the elements in the paragraph are those present in the cross in so many ways and on so many levels. I hope it will serve to pique interest and also spur some on to meditate on the relation between expectation and experience in the theology of the cross. Perhaps too some will read this book!! Hall is a fine writer, especially on the theology of the cross in terms of the first world and its needs.

[[Human life is a dialogue between expectation and experience. The function of expectation is to deliver us from bondage to the past. When expectation ceases, there occurs what is called, according to the better understanding of it, death. The function of experience is to keep us tied to the life of the body, to history. When experience ceases to make itself heard in the dialogue, the consequence is illusion. Human life is thus a perilous journey between death and illusion. Few are able to reach the end of the journey before they capitulate to one or the other peril. Most people, before their time runs out, are acquainted with both.]]

Some questions for reflection (I will post more if there is interest; give these a shot!):

1) In what ways is the cross built on a clash between experience and expectations/expectancy? Consider all the characters in the passion narratives and all the stages or aspects of the Cross event; (don't forget to include yourself.)

2) When you err (or when you get "off balance" in your life and spirituality) is it on the side of experience or expectancy, optimism or cynicism? How does your faith in the crucified one correct this imbalance?

3) Does our society err on the side of experience (cynicism) or expectancy (optimism)? How is this clear? How would the Gospel "keep our society honest" or serve to rebalance matters?

Questions on Suffering and the Exaltation of the Cross

[[Could you write something about Sunday's feast of the Exaltation of the Cross? What is a truly healthy and yet deeply spiritual way to exalt the Cross in our personal lives, and in the world at large (that is, supporting those bearing their crosses while not supporting the evil that often causes the destruction and pain that our brothers and sisters are called to endure due to sinful social structures?]]

The above question which arrived by email was the result of reading some of my posts, mainly those on victim soul theology, the Pauline theology of the Cross, and some earlier ones having to do with the permissive will of God. For that reason my answer presupposes much of what I wrote in those and I will try not to be too repetitive. First of all, in answering the question, I think it is helpful to remember the alternative name of this feast, namely, the Triumph of the Cross. For me personally this is a "better" name, and yet, it is a deeply paradoxical one, just like its alternative.


(Crucifix in Ambo of Cathedral of Christ the Light; Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, or Cathedral Sunday in the Diocese of Oakland)


How many times have we heard it suggested that Christians ought not wear crosses around their necks as jewelry any more than they should wear tiny images of electric chairs, medieval racks or other symbols of torture and death? Similarly, how many times has it been said that making jewelry of the cross trivializes what happened there? There is a great deal of truth in these objections, and in similar ones! On the one hand the cross points to the slaughter by torture of hundreds of thousands of people by an oppressive state. More individually it points to the slaughter by torture of an innocent man in order to appease a rowdy religious crowd by an individual of troubled but dishonest conscience, one who put "the supposed greater good" before the innocence of this single victim.

And of course there were collaborators in this slaughter: the religious establishment, disciples who were either too cowardly to stand up for their beliefs, or those who actively betrayed this man who had loved them and called them to a life of greater abundance (and personal risk) than they had ever known before. If we are going to appreciate the triumph of the cross, if we are going to exalt it as Christians do and should, then we cannot forget this aspect of it. Especially we cannot forget that much that happened here was NOT THE WILL OF GOD, nor that generally the perpetrators were not cooperating with that will! The cross was the triumph of God over sin and sinful godless death, but it was ALSO a sinful and godless human (and societal!) act of murder by torture. (In fact one could argue it was a true divine triumph ONLY because it was also these all-too-human things.) Both aspects exist in tension with each other, as they do in ALL of God's victories in our world. It is this tension our jewelry and other crucifixes embody: they are miniature instruments of torture, yes, but also symbols of God's ultimate triumph over the powers of sin and death with which humans are so intimately entangled and complicit.

In our own lives there are crosses, burdens which are the result of societal and personal sin which we must bear responsibly and creatively. That means not only that we cannot shirk them, but also that we bear them with all the asistance that God puts into our hands. Especially it means allowing God to assist us in the carrying of this cross. To really exalt the cross of Christ is to honor all that God did with and made of the very worst that human beings could do to another human being. To exult in our own personal crosses means, at the very least, to allow God to transform them with his presence. That is the way we truly exalt the Cross: we allow it to become the way in which God enters our lives, the passion that breaks us open, makes us completely vulnerable, and urges us to embrace or let God embrace us in a way which comforts, sustains, and even transfigures the whole face of our lives.

If we are able to do this, then the Cross does indeed triumph. Suffering does not. Pain does not. Neither will our lives be defined in terms of these things despite their very real presence. What I think needs to be especially clear is that the exaltation of the cross has to do with what was made possible in light of the combination of awful and humanly engineered torment, and the grace of God. Sin abounded but grace abounded all the more. Does this mean we invite suffering so that "grace may abound all the more?" Well, Paul's clear answer to that question was, "By no means!" How about tolerating suffering when we can do something about it? What about remaining in an abusive relationship, or refusing medical treatment which would ease mental and physical pain, for instance? Do we treat these as crosses we MUST bear? Do we allow ourselves to become complicit in the abuse or the destructive effects of pain and physical or mental illness? I think the general answer is no, of course not.

That means we must look for ways to allow God's grace to triumph, while the triumph of grace ALWAYS results in greater human freedom and authentic functioning. Discerning what is necessary and what will REALLY be an exaltation of the cross in our own lives means determining and acting on the ways freedom from bondage and more authentic humanity can be achieved. Ordinarily this will mean medical treatment; or it will mean moving out of the abusive situation. In ALL cases it means remaining open to and dependent upon God and to what he desires for our lives IN SPITE of the limitations and suffering inherent in them. This is what Jesus did, and what made his cross salvific. This openness and responsiveness to God and what he will do with our lives is, as I have said many times before, what the Scriptures called obedience. Let me be clear: the will of God in ANY situation is that we remain open to him and that authentic humanity be achieved. We MUST do whatever it is that allows us to not close off to God, and to remain open to growth AS HUMAN. If our pain dehumanizes, then we must act in ways which changes that. If our lives cease to reflect the grace of God (and this means fails to be a joyfilled, free, fruitful, loving, genuinely human life) then we must act in ways which change that.

The same is true in society more generally. We must act in ways which open others TO THE GRACE OF GOD. Yes, suffering does this, but this hardly means we simply tell people to pray, grin, and bear it ---- much less allow the oppressive structures to stay in place! As the gospels tell us, "the poor you will always have with you" but this hardly means doing nothing to relieve poverty! Similarly we will always have suffering with us on this side of death, and especially the suffering that comes when human beings institutionalize their own sinful drives and actions. What is essential is that the Cross of Christ is exalted, that the Cross of Christ triumphs in our lives and society, not simply that individual crosses remain or that we exalt them (especially when they are the result of human engineering and sin)! And, as I have written before, to allow Christ's Cross to triumph is to allow the grace of God to transform all the dark and meaningless places with his presence, light and love. It is ONLY in this way that we truly "make up for what is lacking in the passion of Christ."

The paradox in Sunday's Feast is that the exaltation of the Cross implies suffering, and stresses that the cross empowers the ability to suffer well, but at the same time points to a freedom the world cannot grant --- a freedom in which we both transcend and transform suffering because of a victory Christ has won over the powers of sin and death which are built right into our lives and in the structures of this world. Thus, we cannot ever collude with the powers of this world; we must always be sure we are acting in complicity with the grace of God instead. Sometimes this means accepting the suffering that comes our way (or encouraging and supporting others in doing so of course), but never for its own sake. If our (or their) suffering does not result in greater human authenticity, greater freedom from bondage, greater joy and true peace, then it is not suffering which exalts the Cross of Christ. If it does not in some way transform and subvert the structures of this world which oppress and destroy, then it does not express the triumph of Jesus' Cross, nor are we really participating in THAT Cross in embracing our own.

I am certain I have not completely answered your question, but for now this will need to suffice. My thanks for your patience. If you have other questions which can assist me to do a better job, I would very much appreciate them. Again, thanks for your emails.

Subjective vs Objective Reality in Atonement Theology

[[Sister Laurel, I think I understand what you have said, but could you please clarify what you mean by subjective and objective changes which are caused by Jesus' death?]]

Yes, good question because the distinction between these two is important in theology in many areas and especially in moral theology. It is also especially important in a somewhat different way in theologies of atonement. In the last posts I used "subjective reality" to refer to the reality within the subject himself, his inner perceptions and reality; "objective reality" refers to all that is objectively real outside the subject himself and includes the subject's objective, or externally verifiable  reality).

When I speak of changes in reality effected by the cross and look at Anselm's theology vs Paul's theology one basic difference is that Anselm's theology is rooted in the idea that there is some subjective change in God effected through the process of reconciliation. (That is, Anselm saw that God's inner life and attitudes rather than creation outside of him was the object of reconciliation; it posited a subjective change in God's attitudes towards his creation.) In particular Anselm sees Jesus' death as putting an end to some antipathy (offended state) that exists on God's part because God's honor has been infinitely wounded by mankind.

In Paul's theology however, there is an objective change in the world itself, not in God's attitude towards us. Further God is the subject of the process, the one carrying out the process of reconciliation. In this process of reconciliation, not only do sin and death which were formerly "godless" places or realities become God's new dwelling places where we may meet God face to face, but we ourselves are also changed and our hearts are remade in Christ. Meanwhile, as Paul puts the matter, God acts towards us with an unconditional mercy and love "while we were yet sinners"  and does this always and everywhere. In Paul there is no shift in God's (subjective) attitude towards us, no appeasing of anger, no quieting of his wrath, no reconciling of God. Instead it is is the world which is brought back (reconciled) to God (the subject undertaking this action). Wrath is seen to refer to the consequences of sin, not to a subjective anger on God's part; thus this reconciliation is God's own redemptive work in bringing justice (right order) to the world (the object of God's action).

Again then, too often Paul has been read as though he is speaking of Jesus' passion effecting a change in God's attitude towards us rather than effecting an actual change in the world pervaded and dominated by sin and sinful death (a reality which includes ourselves and our own domination by sin and death). It is seen as reconciling God instead or reconciling the world to God. But what we are actually looking at in Paul's theology is a God who enters into our world by becoming one of us and who transforms that world in an act of guerilla warfare; we are looking at the combating and defeat of sin and sinful death from within by the presence of the God of Life and Love! "God was in Christ reconciling the world to Godself" (2 Cor 5:19) Again, this is an objective change in reality, not a subjective change in God's attitude toward that reality.

I hope this helps. If I was TOO unclear on other things please get back to me.

New Web Site: Transfiguration Monastery (Camaldolese Nuns)

Well, the long-awaited website for Transfiguration Monastery is up and running, and though it needs some tweaking according to Sr Donald, it is great to see!! I have added the link above as well as in the lower sidebar, but just in case the above link does not show up, the URL is: www.transfigurationmonastery.org. Please check out the pictures, read over the inspiration for the Community, and plan to return when the store is up and running especially. Or plan a retreat at this genuinely Camaldolese house. They are known for their hospitality which is generous and intimate (it is a small house and nuns and retreatants share the same refectory, etc)! (The monastery includes a guesthouse with six rooms, hermitages for those seeking this kind of experience, and spiritual direction as desired.) For those interested in Camaldolese life, especially mature vocations, be sure and contact Sister M Donald at the included address, etc. (Link is included in lower sidebar.)

More Questions: Does God Will ANY Suffering?

[[Dear Sister O'Neal. Again, thanks for your response. It is clear you don't believe God causes chronic illness, nor that he actively wills it. Do you believe that ANY suffering is the will of God?]]

Actually, I do believe that God wills some suffering. This would include forms of suffering that are simply part and parcel of being (or becoming) authentically human on and in their journey towards union with God. Such a journey involves struggle and struggle involves suffering. For instance, loneliness would be a form of suffering I think God wills because it causes us to be open to others, to our own sense that we are not isolated or non-relational monads. It also underscores the gift quality of the love relationships we share in; these are not things which are necessary (in the technical sense of that word). That is, they might not have been and in fact they might not be again. Above all this "existential" or "ontological" loneliness marks us a made in the image of the Triune God, relational and made for love in all aspects of our being --- solitary (eremitical) as our lives might also be.

I think that some non-pathological forms of anxiety are normal and willed by God, not only because such anxiety marks us as incomplete and finite of ourselves and also opens us to those things which bring comfort and actual joy, but because we find creative outlets for it. The peace of Christ is not the numbness that can come with drugs or other forms of artificial distraction, etc. It includes a kind of anxiety, a yearning for more, a sense of being made-for more and challenged to embrace it. Similarly, temptation is part and parcel of the human situation (temptation is clearly present in Scripture prior to sin) and leads either to sin or to self-transcendence. Of itself temptation is neutral but it can serve life and spiritual maturity.

Even death itself (the greatest cause of anxiety) is intended by God. But this is, as I referred to in my earlier post, death-as-transition, not sinful, godless, death-unto-oblivion. We are made for eternity. It is death as limit (and this includes all the limits of contingent being we meet each and every day) that reminds us we have but one life which we are called to live and in which we are called to achieve authentic humanity. We are made for eternity, and God sustains us eternally, but growth into authentic graceful humanity is a task we have only a limited time to complete. We need the spur of death to put things into perspective, to remind us who God is and who he is for us, who we really are and what the ultimate challenge before us is. But note well here that ordinary death does not call attention to itself, it does not serve itself. (Sinful death is a different matter.) Ordinary transitional death witnesses to the eternal "more" or fullness and abundant life we are called to. This is true with each of the forms of "existential" suffering I have referred to here. None of them call attention to themselves. They all witness to something other and more than suffering itself. They are life-serving and it is this that predominates.

What I think we cannot do is make a religion out of suffering. Our experience of the God of life and wholeness, the God who enters our existence exhaustively, must be what puts suffering in perspective, not vice versa. The living God can use suffering and transform it with his presence, but he does not wield it like a weapon nor does he send it directly; some of it it is built into the situation and structure of human life and is necessary for growth and development in authenticity and maturity. Other suffering is the result of sin and evil per se and we especially cannot trivialize this by minimizing its reality as evil and an example of the absurd. Especially we cannot attribute such evil to God. Ultimately, as those who proclaim the Gospel of the God of Jesus Christ however, our witness is to be to life, to wholeness and holiness, and to all the ways God empowers transcendence, not to suffering per se whether that suffering is existential or the result of sin.

Followup Questions: Chronic Illness, Victim Souls, God and Suffering, etc

[[Hi Again, Sister O'Neal! Thanks for answering my questions [about a vocation to chronic illness] with more of your own story. You said, "Especially, I am no victim!" Are you familiar with the idea of "victim souls"? Do you think this is a helpful idea? What do you think about the notion that God sends suffering to one person and then eases the suffering of another as a result? I have even read where one person who has been characterized as a victim soul receives some grace and then EXPECTS to suffer because of this grace that was given. That doesn't make sense to me. Yet is it really so awful to be a "victim"? Wouldn't being a "victim soul" be a very special vocation?]]

Victim Soul Theology, an Introduction

First, let me be clear that this whole notion of victim souls is not official Catholic theology. There are some superficial precedents for it in Jewish theology of scapegoating, and superficial correspondence with Sacred Heart theology and the like. For this reason teasing out the legitimate from the illegitimate is not always easy to do. But generally, what commonly passes for "victim soul" theology is a misguided attempt to make some sense of personal suffering which is rooted in a REALLY bad reading of Paul's notion that we are to "make up what was lacking" in the sufferings of Christ. More, it is based on a terribly distorted idea of God as the one who sends suffering, and indeed, who bargains with people to accept additional suffering in order to relieve someone else's, or (worse yet) who even punishes one with suffering after gracing them with something joyful. What kind of God works this way? Not one I could ever believe in, and certainly not one worthy of worship --- at least not if worship is a function of love, as I believe it must be!!!

Also,(with the exception of the Christ Event, where God in Christ took on suffering himself and in the limited sense the word actually applies, was OUR VICTIM) to believe that God causes one to suffer (or sends suffering) and applies it to another means that one believes God is playing some great game with each of us and is in complete control of the suffering in this world. More, and even more problematical, it is a "theology" which believes that God can be convinced to relieve someone's suffering if another person is willing to undertake it in her place. It is as though there is some great quota of suffering in the world as a whole which God needs us to experience in order to be placated or satisfied or something. Even (or perhaps especially!) Anselm's theory of satisfaction never got this crude, and it was already a complete misunderstanding of Paul. Let me explain.


Another look at the Theology of The Cross: Paul vs Anselm

Despite some strands of common piety which hold otherwise, it was not Jesus' suffering per se which was redemptive (though it was absolutely essential), but rather his entering exhaustively into the realms of human sin and death while remaining obedient (that is, open and responsive) to God in spite of the depths of his failure, fear, suffering, etc. This obedience unto death, even death on a cross (that is, not just natural, death-as-transition, but sinful, godless death-unto-oblivion!) meant that God could now enter completely into these realms from which he would otherwise be excluded by human sin in order to transform them with his presence. Once this occurs, their power (which is the power to isolate and separate one from God, and thus from life and meaning) is broken definitively.

In Anselm's satisfaction theology Christ's death makes up for the infinite dishonor done to God. Christ's suffering is not a way to enter exhaustively into our situation so that situation can be objectively changed. Instead the debt of sin, a debt owed to God's honor, is paid in terms of suffering. God is offended and needs to be reconciled, placated, his anger etc, assuaged. But this, despite superficial linguistic similarities, is precisely the antithesis of what Paul provides in his theology of the cross. For Paul, the Christ Event works to overcome the objective chasm that exists between the world and God. It works to bring the world back to God and to friendship with him. It works to overcome the estrangement, alienation, and antipathy towards God, and it does all these things not by appeasing God's anger (which would be a subjective change) but by implicating God in precisely those aspects of his creation from which he has been excluded (i.e.,his death effects an objective change in reality). Thus, Jesus' suffering is necessary for he must plumb the depths of human sin and sinful death; unless he does there will remain depths of Godlessness which are not overcome by his obedience (openness and responsiveness) to God. However, it is not the suffering per se that is redemptive. Instead it is is Jesus' complete dependence on God in spite of everything which might otherwise separate him from God by tempting to sin (that is, to remain dependent upon himself and his own resources) that is salvific.

As in Christ's life, of itself suffering is not redemptive; it is our dependence upon God, our remaining open to God's grace (God's living self) in spite of and within that suffering that is redemptive, for it implicates God into the places or realms from which he would otherwise be excluded. (Realms like sin and death are also personal realms, and God cannot simply force his way into them, or overcome them by fiat; they imply human decisions to live --- and therefore to die --- without God, and thus they come to be embodied realities which are deeply personal. This is why Paul refers to "this body of death," and describes death as a power or principality with influence in our lives. God does not force his way into any area of our lives, though he is present both within and without those lives, and eagerly waits to be allowed to be sovereign over even their darkest regions or dimensions.) This is what Paul is referring to when he writes in 2 Cor 5:19 that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself.

To reiterate, in Paul's theology of the cross and contrary to Anselm's version, God is not in need of reconciliation: we are. God is bringing the far places we journey in and through, and our own prodigality under his own sovereignty; he is transforming godless realities within and around us into sacramental realities where he may be met face to face. God's wrath is not an all-too-human anger or emotional response, but the fact that God allows the consequences of our sins to run their course. (Dunn, Theology of Paul the Apostle) We use anthropomorphic terms to speak of divine wrath, but they are singularly inadequate. Meanwhile, Jesus' passion is not inadequate; it has dealt a definitive and terminal blow to sin and death. However, that victory must become personal to us; it must touch and redeem the sin and death we have embodied within ourselves, our lives, and all our lives touch. It is only in this sense that we are called upon "to make up for what was lacking in the sufferings of Christ". We allow the suffering and obedient Christ into our PERSONAL realm, and through him in the power of the Spirit work to bring all of it into the life of the Trinity.

So suffering does not appease or placate God. Suffering is a consequence of creation's estrangement and brokenness and one which God takes on himself. It becomes the gateway into the realms of sin and death because largely it is the result of the effects of sin and godless death in this world and tempts (or leads) us either to depend upon ourselves or to hand our lives over to God. Therefore, at the same time then, these can be gateways of grace for they open us to the need for God's love and mercy, but they do not come directly from his hand. Especially, God does not send suffering nor engage in some kind of distorted calculus of suffering where SOMEONE must suffer and the question is merely who will be made to do it. Examples of such a perverse calculus would include the following: "If I suffer willingly, God will relieve x's pain," or "If I suffer, a person a world (or era) away (and unaware of me) will be prevented from sinning," or again, "I am suffering this pain so that x's painful dying might be eased (also where x is unaware of me and we are not speaking about her being edified by my own suffering, etc)." These beliefs are superstitious, not expressions of faith.

Beyond being superstitious, what kind of God would such a calculus of suffering reveal? First, it would be a "god" who directly sends both suffering and its relief, and who, for arbitrary reasons might relieve some suffering so long as someone else can be found to take it on. He would be a "god" who bargains with his creatures, a tyrannical torturer or sadist who somehow needs a certain amount of suffering to be "satisfied" and never mind who does it. In such a scheme suffering is not merely the result, the tragic consequence of sin created and exacerbated by our inhumanities or by the brokenness and incompleteness of creation, but is the result of a God who directly punishes his creation for sin. And of course this punishment falls arbitrarily on the heads of the innocent and the guilty alike while asserting that God can PERHAPS be convinced to relieve the suffering of some and apply it to others. The notion you referred to in your question that God will grace a person and then punish them with suffering because they were graced is simply too perverse and unChristian to respond to. It sounds more like a portrait of a paranoid schizophrenic parent dealing with a child than the God of Jesus Christ. Sorry, but in my estimation, these notions are perversions of the idea of divine justice, and parodies of the God of Jesus Christ --- not one whom we can really love or worship.

Legitimate Views of Suffering?

It is one thing to act as Maximillian Kolbe did and give away bread and soup while being fed in other ways, and eventually to even ask to stand in and be executed in another's place so that that man might live and return to his family. It is entirely another to believe that one's own physical pain can/may be used by God to relieve the suffering of someone dying of cancer in a crude kind of substitution for instance. To believe this presupposes a God who could stop or mitigate a person's suffering but does not do so because the suffering is needed to fill some cosmic quota or something. (The idea that God requires our suffering to appease his being offended by sin is certainly no better.) It is one thing to accept the suffering that befalls one with equanimity and courage, and as an opportunity to share in Christ's own cross by remaining open to and dependent upon God therein; when one does this, God is implicated in one's suffering and redeems it. Again, it is entirely another thing to beg God to send suffering so that he might relieve the suffering in another, or to attribute suffering to him which is some sort of payback because he graced one with something wonderful or joyful that day. In the first instance there is some generosity involved we should honor (the willingness to suffer in another's place), but the theology involved is simply unjustifiable and possibly unconscionable.

Magical Thinking is not okay.

It is one thing to know that if one suffers well (that is, suffers patiently in complete dependence on the love and support of God in this suffering), God is allowed to dwell more fully in our world and one becomes a part of Jesus' own work of bringing the Kingdom. In such a case one's suffering may indeed touch and edify others; it may indeed convince them of the grace of a God who enters exhaustively into our reality and transforms it with his presence. It will also contribute to the healing of the whole world in the sense that personal holiness does this. But it is entirely another thing to think in magical terms, or in terms of a religious quid pro quo, or to suggest that God makes one suffer so that he may have mercy on someone else and relieve their suffering. As one friend of mine points out, such a God is not the God of Jesus Christ; he is Moloch! (And, should you doubt that there are those who hold such views, search the web; this kind of nonsense is not hard to find. It is a holdover of some of the very worst French Revivalist piety and deserves a quick and deep burial.)

Rejection of the Term "Victim Soul"

Even when I think of Maximillian Kolbe I can't accept there is a place for the category "victim soul" and I especially doubt it is a phrase or status someone like Fr Kolbe would have applied to himself (or that anyone living should do), particularly given the degree of suffering that went on all around him in Auschwitz. What defined Fr Kolbe was not his suffering, though that was plentiful and profound; what defined him was his love of God, his own experience of God's love, and his authentic humanity and selflessness in spite of his suffering. He was known for and was transparent to being nourished, fed, and consoled in ways which make the term victim particularly inadequate, I think. Ordinarily, as the Bishop of Worster noted in regard to a celebrated case of a comatose girl in his diocese who was "billed" as a victim soul, this is a term the Church herself uses for Christ alone; at best we can use it for others only with very great caution.

Generally, at least when it is self-applied, it is often an arrogant term associated at best with people who simply have suffering in their lives and must deal with it as we all must; too often these persons are unaware of how much suffering others undergo on a regular basis. At worst such a self-applied designation is associated with unstable narcissists struggling to find a way to give meaning to the suffering in their lives (which, historically at least, they often willfully exacerbate) while inadvertantly denigrating or distorting the God of Jesus Christ in the process. This is especially true when it is based on theologies which see God as the sender of suffering who doesn't care who does it just so long as the cosmic quota of pain is met, or when it assumes one's own suffering makes one special and allows one to forego ordinary treatment and prudent behavior to minimize it. It is also especially true today when everyone is tempted to see themselves as a victim in one way and another, and when victim status is one of the most disedifying and truly "worldly" dimensions of our society. Since the phenomenon of the "victim soul" is particularly linked to women, many of whom were completely oppressed in one way and another, and often have a history of self-mutilation, cutting, binding, etc, it is one of those phenomona about which the Church is indeed right to be skeptical, or at least VERY CAUTIOUS.

We ALL Share the Cross of Christ

It should go without saying that we are all called upon to share in the cross of Christ. We are called upon to bear the suffering that comes our way in union with him and in complete dependence upon his Father in the power of the Holy Spirit. Also, we are called upon to believe that our own suffering and its redemption has dimensions and scope which transcend our own private world. It contributes to the perfection and fulfillment of God's creation, and when undertaken in faith, can edify others who come to recognize the victory of God in the transformation of one's life and the transfiguration of one's pain. We join ourselves to the crucified and risen Christ and in this sharing of HIS life our own pain becomes a holy space where light may be brought forth from darkness, life from death, and meaning from absurdity. Suffering in this way implicates God more fully into the pain and brokenness of the world. It allows even pain to become sacramental. This is a completely legitimate theology of suffering.

Once again, Suffering Does not Appease or Reconcile an Angry God

But note that what suffering in this way does NOT do is make up some sort of cosmic (or Divine) quota, as though there is a fixed price for sin which God exacts, and nevermind who pays it.  As I noted above, God does not need to be reconciled; we do. It is not the case that God needs us to suffer to be placated or appeased or in order that "payment" be made for our own or others' sins. (The question of why Paul uses such terms in his theology of the cross is another question, but for now let me say he has been misread more often than not.) If someone is dying of cancer, for instance, I cannot bargain with God to ease their pain and give it to me instead. I cannot treat God as though he is the cosmic distributor of suffering, or some sort of punisher. What I CAN do is sit with the person through the pain of their illness and dying, and share in that. I CAN and SHOULD bring Christ to her in whatever ways possible. Sin has consequences and suffering is certainly one of them, but this does not make God the direct dispenser of pain or the One who demands retribution. This is a completely illegitimate theology of suffering. Much commonly-held Victim soul theology is at least implicitly based on such a perverse notion of God and those who claim to be victim souls need to consider this.

Victim Souls, a Special Vocation?

As for whether this is a special vocation I have to disagree. We are ALL called upon to accept and join our sufferings with Christ so that they and our world may be redeemed (that is brought to wholeness and perfection by being reconciled and transformed). Do SOME suffer more in this world than others? Undoubtedly, but how really are we to either quantify or qualify this? More, are they victims? Of what or whom? Certainly not of God! Personally, I find the entire terminology objectionable. As I noted above, our world (especially the 1st world portion of it) is too enamored of victimhood. Everyone is a victim, and they exalt in it! It becomes their whole identity, and that is truly tragic. The notion of a victim soul in such a milieu is particularly unacceptable or objectionable. What this world needs are martyrs (witnesses to the grace and Gospel of God that brings wholeness and peace in spite of their suffering), or prophets (those who speak God's Word into the present situation with a power that transforms it). What we need are men and women with the courage to be something other than victims!!! We do not need more victims, especially those who dress up such status in perverse piety and the notion that somehow such perversity glorifies the infinitely merciful God of Jesus Christ.

Christ the Light Cathedral Prepares for Dedication

This morning I attended a rehearsal for the first celebration next Sunday culminating a week and a half later in the dedication of our Diocese's new cathedral (Christ the Light). The interior was not finished so I took few pictures this time, but one of them is very cool and is part of the "back wall" (the Omega Wall) behind the altar. It is made up of a myriad of pin holes which then project the light allowed through onto panels. The result is the above image of Jesus as Pantocrator (called Jesus in Majesty in this context).



Next Sunday there will be a festival including a procession from the old Cathedral site (demolished because it was irreparably damaged in the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989) with representatives of all the parishes in the diocese. Each parish will have a rite of sending and send a pitcher bearer with water from the parish baptistry along with a flag bearer. These people, as well as a couple of other representatives of the parish will gather at the old site for the beginning of the ceremonies where our old Bishop (Bishop Emeritus), John Cummins, will preside and then ritually hand his pastoral staff over to our new Bishop, Allen Vigneron (who succeeded John Cummins in 2003). After processing to the new cathedral, the new and old foundation stones will be laid and trowled into place, water from the Jordan, from St Peter's and from Lourde's as well as from Oakland's Lake Merritt and from each parish will be used to fill the baptismal font of the cathedral baptistry. Also there will be the blessing of the stations of the cross and other sacred art, installing of the various chrisms in the ambry, etc.



On the 25th the actual dedication of the cathedral with Mass will take place. There will be about 40 Bishops attending, several Cardinals, and should be a terrific celebration. Hopefully I can get a few more pictures on that day eventhough we are supposed to be travelling light!!

New Initials for the Diocesan Hermit: Erem. Dio. or Er Dio (Diocesan Hermit)

Awhile ago I requested permission from my Bishop to adopt the use of certain initials to indicate my status as a diocesan hermit. The initials suggested were Erem Dio, or Er Dio standing for the Latin version of diocesan hermit (eremita dioecesanus). It was understood that this would be precedent setting, and could well be adopted by other diocesan hermits (hermits professed under Canon 603 and responsible to their local Ordinaries for the general living out of their profession and Rule). Up until this point individual c. 603 hermits have adopted initials which indicated their personal spirituality (Franciscan, Benedictine, Carmelite, etc) but have had to take care not to use the initials of a particular community or congregation since they are not professed as part of said community. Unfortunately, this was really inadequate as it missed completely their status and charism as diocesan. There has been no standardized designation for diocesan hermits, and there has been a felt need for several different reasons:

First of all, the diocesan hermit who is a solitary hermit shares a unique relationship with Bishop and Diocese. She has a unique charism and place in the life of the Church which, so far as I can tell, is not matched by non-canonical hermits or by those canonical hermits living in community. Whether the diocesan hermit's spirituality is essentially Benedictine, Franciscan, Carmelite, Augustinian, Cistercian, Carthusian, etc. what is more important is the fact that they are professed and find their most fundamental identity in their solitary and diocesan status, responsibilities, and affiliation. This fundamental identity translates into a unique charism (gift quality) and mission; the hermit is a gift to church and world, but this is particularly worked out on the diocesan level in terms of her own parish and in obedience to her own Bishop. Thus, while I am Camaldolese Benedictine (I am not A Camaldolese Benedictine because I am not professed as one!) and while I highly esteem and honor this tradition, first and foremost I am A diocesan hermit who happens to also be Camaldolese Benedictine in spirituality and as an oblate.

Secondly, it has become somewhat common (though illegitimate) for some hermits who are non-canonical (and not in the process of becoming canonical per C. 603) to use the title Sister and even adopt initials after their names despite not being publicly professed. One person I corresponded a while back with used HS (apparently for Hermit Sister) followed immediately by a lower case "p" (HSp) for private vows. Since only those publicly professed (or preparing for this) have assumed (or are preparing to assume) the juridical rights and responsibilities associated with either the title or such initials, this was confusing and, as far as I could tell, contradictory and misleading. (Why use what indicates a public vocation and juridical status --Sister, HS --- and then add a letter that proclaims one as privately professed??)

Several diocesan hermits liked the idea of identifying themselves as a hermit sister (or brother), but we came to see that it was our status as solitary and diocesan (Canon 603) which really distinguished us so that HS, HB, Er or Erem were really inadequate unless, for instance, Rome decided only Canon 603 hermits could use such initials. That was unlikely to happen for some time, if ever. Thus, adding Dio (for diocesan, dioecesanus) became a significant clarification of canonical standing as well as pointing to the Canon 603 hermit's unique charism.

Thirdly, it has happened that individuals with no sense of a diocesan eremitical vocation have begun unofficially to embrace Canon 603 as a possible way to circumvent the lengthy and somewhat difficult process of canonically establishing a community. (A semi-eremitical or eremitical community living under a single Rule is not the same as a Laura of diocesan hermits who come together but retain their own individual Rules. Canon 603 (it is suggested implicitly, though not explicitly) allows for the latter; according to canonists it is not meant to be the means to the former, nor should it be used by those looking for a canonical loophole to get themselves professed as a hermit who is really part of a community or would-be community.)

Again, there needed to be a way of designating the hermit whose immediate LEGITIMATE superior was her Bishop per Canon 603, and who, as perpetually professed as a SOLITARY hermit was not on the way to becoming a member of a community of hermits under another superior and single Rule. Erem Dio (or Er Dio) seemed to do this. The same was true with regard to non-canonical (lay) hermits who use the language of Canon 603 without ever being consecrated by the Church under this canon. They are significant and important instances of the lay (and eremitical) vocation, but despite similarities in life (silence of solitude, prayer, penance, etc.) do not share in the charism of the diocesan hermit nor in a public vocation to the consecrated state. The public has a right to a clear distinction between these two vocations because the rights, obligations, and expectations of one differs from that of the other. (Please see other blog articles on this topic.)

Fourthly, at least in the USA, it is common for religious men and women who publish to use their first and last names along with congregational initials while dropping Brother or Sister or Father. (Actually this is common in many contemporary contexts.) Thus in Review For Religious and other journals, for instance, my name would show up as Laurel M O'Neal, but with no real indication that I was consecrated (or in what way) because (except for those associated with oblature: (OblSB Cam, or Oblate, OSB Cam --- which are usually not used publicly) I have no congregational initials. (Review For Religious usually adds a small statement referring to the person as Sister or Brother, etc, but this is not really enough to immediately indicate one's state of life as a consecrated hermit. For this reason too we looked for a way of adopting US usage while clearly indicating consecrated standing. Laurel M O'Neal Er Dio, or Laurel M O'Neal, Erem Dio seemed to fit the bill.

Today, on the anniversary of my perpetual profession I heard from my Bishop on this matter. He gave permission for the adoption of the initials mentioned above, (Erem Dio, Er Dio). It was, I think, a thoughtful decision which involved discussion on several levels and comes at a perfect time. Thus, we have a new designation in the Church (my Bp was clearly aware this was precedent setting), and one which, it is hoped, other diocesan hermits may adopt and find helpful in a number of ways --- not least in spurring them to further reflection on, definition and claiming of their identities and charism as diocesan -- that is, as solitary hermits who are publicly consecrated..

Followup notes and questions: Considering allowing comments; Feedback desired

Hi there from Stillsong Hermitage. As you well know, most blogs allow comments, and when I began this blog I chose not to do so for various reasons. It may be time to reconsider that. To that end, I am asking readers (there are actually a number of you, some regular visitors to this blog) to email me with their feedback on this idea. Should I allow comments? Would you like that option? Why or why not? Thanks!

Sincerely,
Laurel M O'Neal, Er Dio
Stillsong Hermitage

Followup: Hello again from Stillsong Hermitage. Thanks to those of you who responded to my question about allowing comments. In general people thought the idea was a good one so long as the comments were moderated and I maintained control. Several people disagreed with the idea, largely because they felt this would or could be distracting whether to me or to others reading the blog.

In thinking about all this I came to see that although I would like to offer the chance for comments, etc, doing so would actually detract from my own solitude, and from the sense that I am writing out of solitude and sharing its fruits. This was a bit hard to describe or define, but it simply felt to me that the boundaries between blog and readers would become more porous, and my blogging become less a solitary pursuit. I might be completely wrong about this, but I think I have to listen to this sense of mine.

At the same time, hospitality is a prime Benedictine charism and value and I DO want to accomodate questions, allow for discussions, etc. I very much enjoy getting questions from readers, and there is no doubt they help me in my writing! And of course, I do not write for myself alone. So, while I have decided not to open up the comment option for now, I am looking into other options. The one that might work is to set up some sort of message board and link it to this blog. That could allow for discussion, comments, questions, and at the same time not distract either me or others from this blog per se. I think it could allow for the growth of community here too. It is an option I will look into. Once again feedback on this is most welcome!!

Sincerely,
Laurel M O'Neal, Er Dio
Stillsong Hermitage

Magnificat of Betrothal

Ann Johnson, author of several of the various magnificats I have posted recently, is a married woman with several children. The following magnificat reflects that and is particularly appropriate for those who are married. However, it can be used by those of us who are espoused or preparing for espousal to Christ as well. I am posting this particularly for a friend preparing for the Consecration of Virgins, and for several novice Sisters as well. Again, it is takenfrom Miryam of Nazareth. Enjoy.


Our souls are filled with wonder at the gift of our loving,
and our spirits take on new meaning in the giving of love,
God of the Flowing Well,
you have looked upon us with favor as we join our lives
in response to you.

Yes, from this time on all people who look upon us
will recognize us as being life companions
and will call us blessed,
for you, the One who dwells in human hearts,
have done great things for us.

Holy is your name,
and your confirming joy reaches from age to age
to those who dare to journey
on the unknown pathways of committed love.

You have shown us the life-changing power of our love
in the eyes of those who know us and
in the richness of our work.

You have humbled us by the intensity of our otherness.

The false pride that we treasured in our ability to stand alone
has been cast aside
and we understand ourselves and you more tenderly
as we begin to experience the treasure
of a lifetime of standing together.

We are no longer lonely:
We touch with compassion those who come to us filled with
needs.

You have opened the doors of eternity to us
as we searched for you,
mindful of your own longings for a people to love
. . .according to the dreams and murmerings you have shared
with those who love since the beginning of time. . .
mindful of your own longings for a people to love,
we recognize that the bondedness of human hearts and lives
reflects one true reality of you, the Living God.

Personal Questions on the Vocation to Chronic Illness

 I have received several questions, some of them followup, during an email correspondence. Since they may reflect questions others are asking I have decided to post them here.

[[Sister O'Neal, you have written about chronic illness as vocation and explained the sources of your interest in your profile. Is your interest more personally motivated though? You write a lot about the God whose power is made perfect in weakness, and you adopted that as your motto for perpetual profession. That makes me think your interest is more personal than I have read up until now. I hope this is not too personal to ask about, but I understand if you choose not to answer.]]

Well, there is no doubt it is a personal question, and one I have not dealt with on this blog on purpose; neither is it one I will deal with again probably unless it raises significant questions for readers and I think saying more can actually help them; but yes, my interest in chronic illness as a vocation (or better, my conviction that there is such a thing) has a personal basis as well as the other reasons I have mentioned.

Since I was a young adult I have suffered from a medically and surgically intractable seizure disorder (epilepsy). For some years it went undiagnosed (or inadequately so), and for many more years (25 or more) it was life-threatening on a regular basis. It also resulted in injuries, some of which led to chronic pain because of Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy --- a condition characterized by neuropathic pain which results when soft tissue injuries do not heal quite properly. Today, the seizure disorder is relatively well, though not completely controlled (seizures are triggered by some types of external stimuli which are more prevalent today than in the past), but the chronic pain continues as a daily reality. Evenso, I take Rx pain relievers (which I believe is the only responsible thing to do here), and the med I now take for seizure control has a happy side effect of helping diminish neuropathic pain as well! The bottom line is that I function well in spite of these things, and am (Deo Gratias!!) graced by God in ways which cause other things than these to dominate!!

My real interest in the idea of God's power being perfected in weakness is first of all a function of my interest in Pauline theology which I began to develop in 1971 under John C Dwyer's tutelage. There is no doubt that Paul's Christology is kenotic, that is, it is centered on the self-emptying of God in creation which culminates in the Christ Event. Kenosis translates into asthenia or weakness. Our God is one who limits himself in order to create and enter definitively and exhaustively into our world. Further, redemption is effected only through Jesus' complete self-emptying in obedience to the will of God; obedience is an openness and responsiveness to God, a complete dependence upon him which implicates God in those places from which, by definition, he is otherwise excluded: the realms of sin and death in particular. It is above all the story of a God whose power is made perfect in weakness: his own, Jesus', and mine or yours as well; undoubtedly I was predisposed to hear this message with a particular keenness.

But it was not only Paul's theology that captured my imagination here. Throughout the Gospels we are confronted by a message where the values of God are not those of this world, where the poor are truly rich, the alienated and marginalized assume places at God's right hand, etc. These kinds of paradoxes intrigued and excited me; they still do, because they spell out the possibility of a life which is prophetic precisely because it does not measure up to, but rather criticizes ordinary worldly standards of productivity, status, value, etc. Still, in Pauline terms what they mean for me practically is that weakness in my own life has been capable of becoming the place where God's power is perfected, not because he delights in this kind of weakness or its attendant suffering (I sincerely believe he does not), but because he enters into our situation exhaustively and heals, transfigures, and redeems it. It can indeed become the place where his own power (love) is perfected in our world. Thus, 2 Cor 12:9 became not just the summary of Paul's gospel, but the summary of my own personal story as well.

Most importantly, it was the isolation occasioned by illness that demanded I confront unhealthy withdrawal, and eventually, to move through it to the legitimate anachoresis (withdrawal) of the eremitical life. That left me sensitive to legitimate and illegitimate forms of anachoresis, as well as to appropriate and inappropriate motivations for embracing the eremitical life, but it helped me to let go of the inappropriate and embrace the appropriate. (Yes the desert vocation involves contending with demons, and they are mainly our very own!!) It also forced me to confront my own essential poverty apart from God and learn how infinitely valuable and precious I am as one made in his own image. In light of his regard for me, and especially as one who (in Christ) is his counterpart --- called to assist in the coming of the Kingdom despite my weakness and personal inadequacies --- I am chosen as God's own bride and dignified beyond all counting by his love. What I discovered was that the call to eremitic life was in every way a call to wholeness, love, and joy. Additionally, it is a call to koinonia in solitude, not to an isolation masked in piety. There is withdrawal (anachoresis), yes, but there is a more profound connectedness or relatedness than is often apparent to those not living the life. In particular, for the diocesan hermit there is community on so many levels beginning with God that it is hard to describe the richness of relationship(s) within the solitude.

So, yes, my reasons for being interested in chronic illness as vocation stem from my own personal medical history as well as my experience as a hospital chaplain and work in neurosciences or clinical lab. Sometimes we witness to the power of the gospel in our weakness. As I have written before, I don't for a moment believe that God willed my illness nor desired the anguish and other suffering that accompany it, but I am convinced beyond all doubt that he willed to teach me how sufficient his love (grace) for me was in ANY situation. My own circumstances became a means to an end despite the fact that God did not will or send them. I came to hunger intensely for God's love, and for the capacity to return it very early on in my life; I also came to be aware of others' needs for it although I could not have explained that coherently at that point. And of course, God filled that hunger, even as he also sharpened it, and he commissioned me, as he commissions each of us, to bring that love to others in genuine compassion and service!

The story about how this all came to be is a complex one and unimportant in this context. What is important to say is that in my emptiness, weakness, brokenness, hunger, anguish, and pain, I met the God who brings meaning, strength, wholeness, satiety, joy, and delight out of all these things. The vocation I discovered is the vocation to witness to THESE latter things, to AUTHENTIC HUMAN EXISTENCE and the God who makes them possible in spite of and through the weakness and brokenness that besets us. God does not will the illness, pain, etc, but he does will their redemption, tranfiguration, and especially their transformation into a life of essential wholeness and compassion. THAT, afterall, is what a vocation to chronic illness is all about.

The reason you do not hear about the personal reasons that brought me to an understanding of this vocation is that while illness or injury remain problematical on a daily basis (this is mainly true of chronic pain), they do not define who I am. Especially I am no victim. Instead, my life is defined in light of God's grace and who that has made me; I want very much for that to be clearer and more primary to readers of my posts than these other things. God wills that I live as fully and lovingly as I can in spite of them. He has (with my cooperation) brought wonderful people into my life who have assisted in this including doctors, directors, teachers, pastors, friends who accommodate me in various ways, et al. In all these cases they have helped and challenged me to grow beyond an identification with illness and pain, and into an identification with God's grace, fullness of life, and growing personal holiness. Unless that is clear in what I write, live out, or otherwise proclaim, the suffering itself is meaningless and certainly not edifying; on the other hand, if the effects of the grace of God which transfigures both suffering and life IS clear in my writing and living, then there is rarely any need to focus on the suffering, and doing so would be a disedifying distraction!

[[Do you think it is important for people to know how to suffer? Do you think you have a responsibility to teach people how to suffer or to speak about your suffering?]]

While I think it is important for people to learn to suffer, and while I think suffering well is one of the things we are least capable of today, I believe that the way to teach (model, or witness to) that is NOT by focusing on suffering itself. In particular, speaking about my own situation is rarely necessary (or helpful) except when it is important to remind someone what is possible with the grace of God. For instance, occasionally a client will wonder if healing is really possible, or if it is possible to transcend a given set of circumstances. In such a situation I will refer to my own illness or pain. Here my own suffering is important, but only so long as it does NOT dominate my life or define me, and only in order to underscore the possibility of healing, essential wholeness and humanity along with the capacity to be other-centered and compassionate in spite of negative circumstances. God's grace ALWAYS heals and brings life out of that which is antithetical to these things, so what one wants to witness to is the transformation of one's life as one moves from faith to faith and from life to more abundant life. His love ALWAYS transfigures our reality, not least because he is WITH US in ways which remind us of how precious we are to him, how much he wants for us, how much he longs to share with us, etc.

Even in situations where it is helpful to speak of one's suffering one needs to recall that it's a lot like a single microdrop of skunk spray: a very little goes a very long way and "scents" everything in its path --- for a very long time!! Also, if you think about the stories of suffering that really inspire and move you, they are ordinarily the stories where courage, patience, joy, wholeness, dignity and selflessness predominate and the pain or suffering is recognized but allowed to disappear into the background. They are the stories where humanity triumphs (and this means a person living from the grace of God); they are not exercises in navel gazing or detailed and repetitive accounts of one's pain. Suffering well is, after all, about courage, about affirming life and meaning in spite of destruction and absurdity, and especially, it is about LIVING AS FULLY as one is able. There is no way to do this if one focuses on the suffering per se. This kind of focus is ALWAYS self-centered and can be temptingly and distractingly so both for oneself and for others; it is ALWAYS a bid for attention to self (even when appropriately used this is the case). It is also focused on the thing which God's grace helps overcome rather than on the effects of that grace (or the one who gives it). Neither of these (self-centeredness, or a focus on evil) is generally edifying, and can be quite disedifying except in certain limited circumstances. The question is always what does one want to witness to; viz, what do you want others looking at, God's grace and the possibilities for hope and wholeness or one's own self, brokenness, and suffering? For these reasons if one MUST refer to or focus on these latter things one must ALWAYS do so rarely and briefly.

What I am saying is that in "teaching" (I would prefer to say assisting or encouraging) people to suffer well, as far as I know, the only way to do that is to teach them how to live, how to pray, how to give themselves over to God's grace, and especially how to cope so that life and not pain per se is the focus. In my experience, a sure way to FAIL to suffer well (or to fail to inspire someone to bear their own pain well) is to focus on the suffering per se. By the way, "teaching" someone to suffer well presupposes one DOES that oneself, and I wonder how many of us can say that is honestly true of us? It is another reason to focus on life, on hope (both of which are the result of God's grace), and on placing oneself in God's hands so that he may redeem and transfigure the situation as far as possible. We need this encouragement and focus on a continuing basis as much as anyone we might witness to.

Question on Private vows: Consecrare versus Dedicare

[[Sister O'Neal, you have written about the difference between private vows and public vows as the difference between a person consecrating themselves to God, and God consecrating the person. Are there actual church documents that indicate such a difference? Isn't consecration consecration whether private or public? (I have private vows so the question is important to me.)]]

Your questions are excellent and they point up an area where my own writing and speaking here has been imprecise. In part, in earlier posts I drew a distinction between active and passive consecration because of the work of another writer on consecrated life, but that may not be adequate. This is because I had not looked at the original language used in several church documents in some time, so your question gave me the chance to do that. The results are significant and will actually cause me to change the way I speak about this matter in the future. In particular, I will no longer speak of a person consecrating herself to God, and try to reserve the term consecration for an action of God only --- for in the strict sense making holy or setting apart as a member of the consecrated state is something only God does; consecration is a divine and not a human action. (Accepted common usage allows one to speak of consecrating something or oneself to God though, but this is really misleading and confusing. What remains true, whatever usage one eventually adopts is the two kinds of ACTION must be distinguished from one another.)

It is in the documents of Vatican II where one finds a clear distinction between what is a divine action and what is a human action. In Lumen Gentium and Perfectae Caritatis, for instance the verb consecrare and noun consecratio are never used for the human element in profession. When the human element is meant, these documents use terms like, se devovere, mancipare, and dedicare. (I have not looked at JP II's Vita Consecrata closely or in the original Latin in this particlar regard, so I can't yet speak to that.) As noted above, what is clear though is that the pertinent documents of Vatican II draw a distinction between consecration, which is something God does, and dedication (etc), which is the corresponding human action involved in profession. Now, if this latter usage is true of the human element in public profession, it is equally true in private profession. At the same time, what is missing in private vows besides the calling forth in the name of the Church is the entire prayer/rite of consecration which is part of perpetual or solemn public profession. This is true whether or not one uses "consecration" in the broad and common sense of dedication or not.

When one is consecrated to and by God through the mediation of the Church in a formal and juridical act, one is set apart in a new state of life ("status"), viz., the consecrated state. Through ecclesial mediation one is changed; it is sometimes spoken of as analogous to the change being effected in the consecration of bread and wine. (I have seen this analogy used by dioceses and archdioceses in explaining the nature of the consecration of a woman in regard to the Consecration of Virgins and, though I would define this change in the person cautiously and specifically in terms of being made fit to receive the graces, rights and obligations of a new state of life, I adopt it here.) Private vows do not involve such mediation by the church or such an act of transformation even though one is (presumably) led by God to make such vows. What this essentially means is that private vows ordinarily mark a continuing lay vocation (that is, it involves no change in state of life); public vows mark a vocation to the consecrated and/or religious state (status). Both involve the significant dedication of self to God and are meaningful and important vocations; both are presumably embraced as responses to the Holy Spirit, but they differ at the same time.

Your own private vows are a specification and intensification of your baptismal vows; your dedication to God is significant, and I personally hope you will reflect on and find ways to share what they mean for the lay vocation. It is actually too bad that while we have the reality of private vows and many lay people with such vows, most of the writing and reflecting about such things are done by priests and religious! This is especially true, I think, in a world so thoroughly secularized and needing the witness of those who resist this secularization while remaining firmly within the world of ordinary temporal affairs. However, it is also true because while the church esteems the lay vocation, she has a long history either of not doing so adequately or of mainly leaving the reflection on it to those who are not part of the lay state. The result is a failure to hear how truly important the lay vocation is from the inside of that vocation --- and that is always sadly inadequate. If, for instance, I write about the importance of the lay eremitical vocation it always raises the question of why it is I did not choose to live as one then. The same inadequacy results often when some people make private vows because on some level they are actually not affirming their own lay vocation; instead they are affirming they do not believe it is "enough"; religious life is better, lay life (they believe) is an entry level vocation only. Unfortunately, until Vatican II, the Church made this way of thinking all-too-easy. So, again, I hope you will find ways to reflect on and write about your own vocation. I believe both it and your own doing this are critically important to many more people than you might know.

Whether one adopts the distinction between passive and active consecrations mentioned in Centered in Christ (Roberts, OCSO), continues to use "consecrate" in the broad and common sense of dedicating to God, or adopts the less ambiguous and (I think) theologically more adequate conciliar linguistic distinction between consecrare and dedicare (etc) to underscore the differences involved, what remains true is that in private vows one is not initiated into the consecrated state. This particular setting apart requires an act of God, and that is one which the church clearly teaches is always mediated by the Church in a public and juridical (canonical) act; it is another (and even the primary) reason vocations to the consecrated state are called ecclesial vocations.

I hope this helps. As always, if this raises more questions or is unclear in some way, please get back to me.

"Magnificat of Acceptance," and "Magnificat of Friendship," by Ann Johnson

As this month of Mary continues, and also because today is the 40th anniversary of my baptism, I thought I would put up a couple more Magnificats written by contemporary women. Two or three pieces of Ann Johnson's poetry in particular are especially lovely. They are taken from Miryam of Nazareth, Woman of Strength and Wisdom, Ave Maria Press, 1984. The first is called the "Magnificat of Acceptance." (My apologies that the original formatting does not come through when the poem is published here.)


My soul trembles in the presence of the loving Creator
and my spirit prepares itself to walk hand in hand
with the God who saves Israel
because I have been accepted by God
as a simple helpmate.

Yes, forever in the life of humankind
people will sing of this loving encounter;
through remembering this moment, the faithful
will know that all things are possible in God.

Holy is the place within me where God lives.

God's tender fingers reach out from age to age
to touch and soften the inner spaces of those
who open their souls in hope.

I have experienced the creative power of God's embracing arms
and I know the cleansing fire of unconditional love.
I am freed from all earthly authority
and know my bonding to the Author of all earthly things.
I am filled with the news of good things:
my favor with God,
faithful trust in the gentle shadow of the Most High,
the mystery of my son, Jesus,
the gift of companionship with my beloved kinswoman,
Elizabeth, who believes as I believe.

The place in my heart I had filled
with thoughts of fear and inadequacy
has been emptied and I am quiet within.

God comes to save Israel, our holy family,
remembering that we are the ones who remember
. . . according to the kinship we have known. . .
remembering that we are the ones who remember
and that where God and people trust each other
there is home.


The second Magnificat is called, the "Magnificat of Friendship" and calls to mind not only my own journey, but those who have made it with me, and especially those women who have assisted and accompanied me, whether in religious or consecrated (eremitical) life, medicine, ministry, etc. I am excited about continuing this journey into ever fuller and more abundant life, and I can't say how grateful I am to God for these women.

My soul flowers in the light of your love, my God
and my spirit sings Alleluia in the reality of your joyful presence,
because you have chosen my kinswoman and me with the
summons of your eyes.

Yes, we are known now and for all time. We are known as women,
blessed.
Holy is your name.
The tenderness of your hand rests on us as we journey in your way.
Your power in my life has led me into the embrace of loving arms.
You have exposed my lonely pride that I might turn my head to your
nurturing breast.

You have revealed the hollowness of achievements and have opened in
my heart a space filled with simple, loving moments.
My hunger you have satisfied,
my excess you have ignored.

You are my help as I remember your tender love for me,
. . .for we have touched each other you and I
and we have made promises. . .

I remember your tenderness for all that you have begun in me
and in those with whom I walk
and I respond with all that I am becoming
in this hour and in all times to come.

Magnificat

The following Magnificat came my way through the Camaldolese Oblate connection. It was used by Fr Michael Fish, OSB Cam during an Advent homily and was apparently written by a German monk or nun. (If I get more information, I will provide it.) I think it is lovely, and so appropriate this month where we have the Feast of the Assumption and memorials of people like Edith Stein and Maximillian Kolbe.


My soul magnifies the Lord,
my spirit delights in God my saviour,
for You have blessed me lavishly
and make me ready to respond.
You shatter my little world
and let me be poor before You.
You take from me all my plans
and give me more than I can hope for or ask.


You give me opportunities,
and the ability to become free,
and to burst through my boundaries.
You give me the strength to become daring,
to build on You alone -
for you show Yourself as the ever greater one in my life.
You have made known to me this:
It is in my being servant that it becomes possible
for Your kingdom to burst through here and now.

Memorial, Maximillian Kolbe, Martyr

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

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

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

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

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

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