"Ephphatha!": Obedience as the Dynamic of Authentic Humanity

Tomorrow's lections bring us face to face with who we are called to be, and with the results of the idolatry that occurs whenever we refuse that vocation. Both issues, vocation and true worship are rooted in the Scriptural notion of obedience, that is in the obligation which is our very nature, to hearken --- to listen and respond to God appropriately with our whole selves. When we are empowered to and respond with such obedience our very lives proclaim the Kingdom of God, not as some distant reality we are still merely waiting for, but as something at work in us here and now. In fact, when our lives are marked by this profound dynamic of obedience, today's readings remind us the reign of God cannot be hidden from others --- though its presence will be seen only with the eyes of faith.

In the Gospel, (Mark 7:31-37) A man who is deaf and also has a resultant speech impediment is brought by friends to Jesus; Jesus is begged to heal him. In what is an unusual process for Mark in its crude physicality (or for any of the Gospel writers), Jesus puts his fingers in the man's ears, and then, spitting on his fingers, touches the man's tongue. He looks up to heaven, groans, and says in Aramaic, "ephphatha!" (that is, "Be opened!"). Immediately the man is healed and "speaks plainly." Those who brought him to Jesus are astonished, joyful, and could not contain their need to proclaim Jesus and what he had done: "He has done all things well. He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak."

I am convinced that the deaf and "mute" man (for he is not really mute, but impeded from clear speech by his inability to hear) is a type of each of us, a symbol for the persons we are and for the vocation we are each called to. Theologians speak of human beings as "language events." We are called to be by God, conceived from and an expression of the love of two people for one another, named so that we have the capacity for personal presence in the world and may be personally addressed by others, and we are shaped for good or ill, for wholeness or woundedness, by every word which is addressed to us. Language is the means and symbol of our capacity for relationship and transcendence.

Consider how it is that vocabulary of all sorts opens various worlds to us and makes the whole of the cosmos our own to understand, wonder at, and render more or less articulate; consider how a lack of vocabulary whether affective, theological, scientific, mathematical, psychological, etc, can cripple us and distance us from effectively relating to various dimensions of human life including our own heart. Note, for instance that physicians have found that in any form of mental illness there is a corresponding dimension of difficulty with or dysfunction of language. Consider the very young child's wonderful (and often really annoying!) incessant questioning. There, with every single question and answer, language mediates transcendence (a veritable explosion of transcendence in fact!) and initiates the child further and further into the world of human community, knowledge, understanding, reflection, celebration, and commitment. Language marks us as essentially communal, fundamentally dependent upon others to call us beyond ourselves, essentially temporal AND transcendent, and, by virtue of our being imago dei, responsive and responsible (obedient) at the core of our existence.

One theologian (Gerhard Ebeling), in fact, notes that the most truly human thing about us is our addressiblity and our ability to address others. Addressibility includes and empowers responsiveness; that is, it has both receptive and expressive dimensions. It is the characteristically human form of language which creates community. It marks us as those whose coming to be is dependent upon the dynamic of obedience --- but also on the generosity of those who would address us and give us a place to stand as persons that we cannot assume on our own. We spend our lives responsively -- coming (and often struggling) to attend to and embody or express more fully the deepest potentials within us in myriad ways and means; we spend our lives calling others to this same embodiment and expression.

But a lot can hinder this most foundational vocational accomplishment. Sometimes our own woundedness prevents the achievement of this goal to greater degrees. Sometimes we are not given the tools or education we need to develop this capacity. Sometimes, we are badly or ineffectually loved and rendered relatively deaf and "mute" in the process. Oftentimes we muddle the clarity of that expression through cowardice, ignorance, or even willful disregard. Our hearts, as I have noted here before, are dialogical realities. That is, they are the place where God bears witness to himself, the event marked in a defining way by God's continuing and creative address and our own embodied response. In every way our lives are either an expression of the Word or logos of God which glorifies (him), or they are, to whatever extent, a dishonoring lie and an evasion.




And so, faced with a man who is crippled in so many fundamental ways --- one, that is, for whom the world of community, knowledge, and celebration is largely closed by disability, Jesus prays to God, touches, and addresses the man directly, "Ephphatha!" ---Be thou opened!" It is the essence of what Christians refer to as salvation, the event in which a word of command and power heals the brokennesses which cripple and isolate, and which, by empowering obedience reconciles the man to himself, his God, his people and world. As a result of Jesus' Word, and in response, the man speaks plainly --- for the first time (potentially) transparent to himself and to those who know him; he is more truly a revelatory or language event, authentically human and capable, through the grace of God, of bringing others to the same humanity through direct response and address.

Our own coming to wholeness, to a full and clear articulation of our truest selves is a communal achievement. Even (or even especially) in the lives of hermits this has always been true insofar as solitude is NOT isolation, but is instead a form of communion marked by profound dependence on the Word of God and lived specifically for the salvation of others. In today's gospel friends bring the man to Jesus, Jesus prays to God before acting to heal him. The presence of friends is another sign not only of the man's nature as made-for-communion and the fact that none of us come to language (or, that is, to the essentially human capacity for responsiveness or obedience) alone, but similarly, of the deaf man's total inability to approach Jesus on his own. At the same time, Jesus takes the man aside and what happens to him in this encounter is thus signalled to be profoundly personal, intimate, and beyond the merely evident. Friends are necessary, but at bottom, the ultimate healing and humanizing encounter can only happen between the deaf man and Christ.

In each of our lives there is deafness and "muteness" or inarticulateness. So many things are unheard by us, fail to touch or resonate in our hearts. So many things call forth embittered and cynical reactions which wound and isolate when what is needed is a response of genuine compassion and welcoming. Similarly, so many things render us speechless: bereavement, illness, ignorance, personal woundedness, etc. As a result we live our commitments half-heartedly, our loves guardedly, our joys tentatively, our pains self-consciously and noisily --- but helplessly and without meaning in ways which do not edify --- and in all these ways therefore, we are less human, less articulate, less the obedient or responsive language event we are called to be.

To each of us, then, and in whatever way or degree we need, Jesus says, "EPHPHATHA!" "Be thou opened!" He sighs in compassion and desire, unites himself with his Father in the power of the Holy Spirit, and touches us with his own hands and spittle. May we each allow ourselves to be brought to Jesus for healing. May we be broken open and rendered responsive and transparent by his powerful Word of command and authority. Especially, may we each become the clear gospel-founded words of joy in a world marked extensively and profoundly by deafness and the helplessness and despair of noisy inarticulateness.

Feast of the Conversion of St Paul

Tomorrow is the feast of the Conversion of St Paul, and my own feastday as well. We know Paul's story well. A good Jew, indeed, a scholar of the Law who saw the early Church as a distortion and danger to orthodoxy, one who understood that a crucified person was godless and shameful and could in no way be a faithful Jew or prophet, much less God's anointed one, persecuted the Church in the name of orthodoxy and for the glory of God. In sincere faithfulness to the covenant Paul hounded men, women and children, many of whom were his own neighbors. He sent them to prison and thence to their deaths. He, at least technically And according to Luke's version of things), colluded in the stoning of Stephen and sought to wipe Christians from the face of the earth.

While on a campaign to Damascus to root out and destroy more "apostates" Paul had a dramatic vision and heard someone call out to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" Paul inquired who this voice was and was told, "I am Jesus whom you persecuteth." In that moment everything Paul knew, believed, and practiced, was turned upside down. God had vindicated the One whom Paul knew to be godless acording to the Law. He was alive rather than eternally dead, risen through the power of God as the Christians had claimed. For Paul nothing would ever be the same again. So it is with conversions.


Perhaps it is a matter of faulty perception on my part, and if so, I apologize, but it seems to me that conversion is not something most Catholics regard as pertinent to their lives. Conversion is something non-Catholics do when they become Catholics (or vice versa!). It is a onetime event that those "born into the faith" don't (it is thought) need to worry about! Those "born Catholic" may think in terms of "growing in their faith" or "becoming a better Catholic" (and there is certainly nothing wrong with thinking this way!) but "conversion" seems to be a word that is simply little-used for these processes. Somehow (perhaps because of the story of Paul!) conversion is too dramatic and messy a process it seems. It disrupts and is marked by difficult and abrupt discontinuities and conflicts or tensions. It demands a spiritual praxis which sets one apart from the norm, a prayer life which is central, engagement with the Word of God which is profound and more extensive than usual -- not minimal or nominal, and a faith life which does not tolerate compartmentalization. Growth, becoming, etc, are safer words --- demanding, yes, but somehow less total and more socially acceptable than references to "conversion."

In monastic life, and especially in Benedictine monastic life the primary vow is to conversion of life. This vow includes those ordinarily made in religious life, the vows of poverty and chastity. One commits oneself to continually allow God to remake one into the image of Christ (and into one's truest self). There is a sense that such conversion is a gradual and lifelong process of growth and maturation, yes, but there is also an openness to conversion as dramatic and all-consuming. Here conversion is something which does not allow the monastic to divide their lives into sacred and profane or to compartmentalize them into the spiritual and the non-spiritual. Here the Word of God is expected and allowed to convict, challenge, transform, and empower. Here the Spirit of God is accepted as the spirit which moves within us enlivening, edifying, consolidating, and purifying --- the Spirit which humanizes and sanctifies us into the covenant reality we are most truly. It is a pattern which should be true of every Christian.

Paul's initial conversion experience was dramatic by any standards, but drama aside, it did for Paul what encounter and engagement with the Word of God is meant to do to any of us. It caused him to see his entire world and life in terms of the risen and Crucified Christ. It put law completely at the service of love and made compassion the way to accomplish justice. It made human weakness the counterpart of divine strength, mercy and forgiveness the way God's will is accomplished, and in every other way turned the values of this world on their head. May each of us open ourselves to the kind of conversion of life we celebrate today.

Feast of St Anthony (or Antony) of Egypt

Lots (relatively!) of hermits in the calendar these days. Today would ordinarily be the Feast of St Anthony of Egypt (251-356 -- no, no typos in that date), one of the best known hermit Saints. It is also the feastday of the Motherhouse of the women's congregation of Benedictine Camaldolese located in Rome --- the house where, some may recall, Nazarena, an American recluse and anchoress lived out her life. It follows just two days after the feast of St Paul the Hermit, recognized as the first hermit in the Catholic Church. The following brief biography of Anthony is taken from "Saint of the Day" by St Anthony's Messenger.

The life of Anthony will remind many people of St. Francis of Assisi. At 20, Anthony was so moved by the Gospel message, “Go, sell what you have, and give to [the] poor” (Mark 10:21b), that he actually did just that with his large inheritance. He is different from Francis in that most of Anthony’s life was spent in solitude. He saw the world completely covered with snares, and gave the Church and the world the witness of solitary asceticism, great personal mortification and prayer. But no saint is antisocial, and Anthony drew many people to himself for spiritual healing and guidance.


At 54, he responded to many requests and founded a sort of monastery [Laura or Hermitage] of scattered cells. Again like Francis, he had great fear of “stately buildings and well-laden tables.”

At 60, he hoped to be a martyr in the renewed Roman persecution of 311, fearlessly exposing himself to danger while giving moral and material support to those in prison. At 88, he was fighting the Arian heresy, that massive trauma from which it took the Church centuries to recover. “The mule kicking over the altar” denied the divinity of Christ.

Anthony is associated in art with a T-shaped cross, a pig and a book. The pig and the cross are symbols of his valiant warfare with the devil—the cross his constant means of power over evil spirits, the pig a symbol of the devil himself. The book recalls his preference for “the book of nature” over the printed word. Anthony died in solitude at 105.

Those interested in knowing more about Anthony of Egypt should check out his rather "stylized" (it is typically hagiographical) biography by Saint Athanasius, The Life of Anthony. It is available in a number of editions and online as well. A book which is not about Anthony only, but which is fascinating in light of his (and others') well-known battles with demons, and which might interest some readers, is David Brakke's, Demons and the Making of the Monk, Spiritual Combat in Early Christianity. Chapter 2, however focuses on St Anthony (via St Athanasius', Life of Anthony) and references to him occur throughout. As an aside here because of recent questions and posts --- Brakke notes that the tension between solitude and community, desert and city, informs the entirety of Anthony's demonology, and less so Athanasius' work on Anthony, but it is not absent from his Life. Finally, not least for Nazarena's link to St Anthony's of Egypt (Camaldolese) monastery, readers should definitely check out Fr Thomas Matus' (OSB Cam) biography of Nazarena's life in reclusion, Nazarena, An American Anchoress.

Meanwhile, all good wishes to Camaldolese women everywhere, nuns, hermits, oblates! Prayers especially for the community at St Anthony's of Egypt in Rome.

The Master Beggar by Jessica Powers

The tragedy in Haiti can leave us stunned, speechless, and inarticulate -- especially as we try to relate or mesh the glory of Christmas recently celebrated with such devastation. We find ways to help because there is where we are especially to bring Christ, and also where we find Him in a privileged way --- our God who reveals himself exhaustively in human flesh. Meanwhile, poets find ways to express the truths involved in this --- and the challenges of the Incarnation more generally. My prayer is that this awful event will trouble each and all of us for our human heart.

The Master Beggar

Worse than the poorest mendicant alive.
the pencil man, the blind man with his breath
of music shaming all who do not give,
are You to me, Jesus of Nazareth

Must you take up your post on every block
of every street? Do I have no release?
Is there no room of earth that I can lock
to Your sad face, Your pitiful whisper, "Please?"

I seek the counters of time's gleaming store
but make no purchases, for You are there.
How can I waste one coin while you implore
with tear-soiled cheeks and dark blood-matted hair?

And when I offer you in charity
pennies minted by love, still, still, You stand
fixing Your sorrowful wide eyes on me.
Must all my purse be emptied in Your hand?

Jesus, my beggar, what would You have of me?
Father and Mother? the lover I longed to know?
The child I would have cherished tenderly?
Even the blood that through my heart's valves flows?

I too would be a beggar. Long tormented,
I dream to grant You all and stand apart
with You on some bleak corner, tear-frequented,
and trouble mankind for its human heart.

Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit (Jessica Powers), 1937

The Silence of Solitude (#2)

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, When you write about the silence of solitude it sounds pretty grim. Do you mean to give that impression? Also, where does the term come from? I also thought Canon 603 specified silence AND solitude and was surprised to read that you thought the silence of solitude was something different.]]

Dear poster,
I suppose that the two times I have written about "the silence of solitude" it has seemed a pretty negative reality, mainly because of the contexts. However, I carefully qualified the negativity in the last post (and may have done in the other) by referring to the richness of this reality. Anyway, let me try to be a little clearer because "the silence of solitude" embraces the gamut of experiences and realities involved in everything from profound unitive experiences with God to the physical isolation and challenges one faces as one comes to terms with one's own sinfulness without distraction, or even the desolation one may feel from the relative absence of others in one's life or from the felt absence or withdrawal of God. One really cannot point to a wider range of experience.

It seems to me that Jesus' own life was one which, despite the activity and contact with others, was consistently marked by the silence of solitude --- whether we are speaking of the times he was off alone praying, ministering in crowds, talking or disputing with Jewish officials, teaching his ordinarily obtuse disciples, standing before Pilate (a particularly poignant moment revealing the silence of solitude), or facing betrayal by his followers and "abandonment" by God in the passion. All of these moments and his whole life was lived for God alone and with a sense that God alone was enough. Similarly every moment was lived with a profound sense of God's presence and power within and without him. (The single exception was, I would suggest, the experience of abandonment on the cross.) Even while this united him with all of humanity it separated or marginalized him as well. Jesus' grounding in and relationship with God related him intimately with everyone God loved, and at the same time set him apart as a complete and unique individual --- in many ways incommunicable to them. To the degree he was embodied Word he, modelled "the (paradoxical reality we call) silence of solitude." (Another dimension of this I have to wonder about here is Jesus's ability to share with others. He gave of himself completely, and it is clear he had those who loved him especially and whom he loved as friends, but generally, I wonder how much sharing of his own deepest self he could do. That inability is a piece of the silence of solitude I think.)

The term, "the silence of solitude," so far as I know, is a Carthusian one, coined by Carthusian hermit monks to describe a reality which includes both silence and solitude and yet goes beyond both of them. (Sorry, despite having read a number of books by and about Carthusians, I cannot refer you to the text where this phrase occurs, nor can I explain what the author himself meant by it therefore with the following exception. Apparently "the silence of solitude" was meant to distinguish it from the physical silence of cenobitism, and was to be ensured through physical isolation.) However, Fr Jean Beyer, sj, a canonist, writes, "It unites these values. . . referring not merely to the external [physical] silence of the desert but to a profound inner solitude found in communion with God, who is the fullness of life and of love. It implies a lifetime striving towards union with God, a state which causes the one who becomes silent in this divine solitude to be alone with God alone. Such silence of solitude requires other silences --- of place, of surroundings, of action --- all that furthers the solitude and distances one from anything which could disturb it, from all which does not enhance the solitary mode of life." (Beyer, The Law of Consecrated Life: Commentary on the Canons 573-606)

Note that because solitude is defined in terms of communion with God both as goal and reality, Beyer affirms that other silences are required which support and flow from this communion. The other silences are usually what we are thinking of when we suggest the Canon is speaking of silence and solitude. Really though, Canon 603 spells out the goal and essence of eremitical life in this phrase, whereas silence and external or physical solitude are means to achieving this. Genuine solitude is always a communal reality because true individuality is always such a reality. We are constituted as human beings by our relatedness with God (and so with those he loves --- especially as we come to know them in him). We are not unrelated or isolated monads, but instead are "dialogical" at the very core of our being. Physical silence serves the realization of this nature. So does physical or external solitude. But they are not to be mistaken for it. For this reason among others I suggested in my earlier post (Prisoner Hermits) that the "silence of solitude" was a reality even when in the midst of a noisy crowd. This is somewhat different than Beyer describes, and it differs from the narrower Carthusian sense, but I think it is in line with these as well.

The heart of "the silence of solitude" is communion with God. Nothing grim about that! At the same time, while this communion is wonderful and sustaining (even when we don't experience ecstasy or some remarkable prayer experience), and while it unites us to those God loves in mysterious and real ways, it establishes us more fully as individuals and wraps our lives in silence at many levels. Consider how it fosters one's need for environments most people shun. Consider how it sets one's life apart from the normal rhythms, values, and activities of most lives. Consider how incommunicable it truly is, and how truly incommunicable it makes our authentic individuality --- our solitude. So, no "the silence of solitude" is not a grim reality; is a wonderfully, ineffably, positive experience, but it carries with it dimensions of suffering and marginalization as well.

I only just began really thinking about this element of Canon 603 in a conscious way this Summer so I doubt this is really clear yet.(Until then I spent more time thinking about silence AND solitude.) However if it raises questions for you, do get back to me. The questions help me think through what I often know on a more intuitive level. Thanks.

Feast of the Baptism of Jesus

Until I can write a separate reflection for today's feast I am reposting this one from a couple of years ago. Sorry for the inconvenience! I hope everyone's Christmastide has been wonderful!



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

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

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

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

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

Prisoners as Hermits: Another look at the Redemption of Unnatural Solitudes (#1)

[[Dear Sister, I am sorry to keep bothering you because of an article or two on the internet, but I also read there about the idea of "criminals" being hermits, and the suggestion that perhaps they were "better hermits" than the professed and consecrated ones. What do you think about this idea?]]

Hi again! As for whether convicts can live as hermits, I actually think this is a great idea, and very edifying in many ways. I have noted before a number of times that urban hermits live in what Thomas Merton called the unnatural solitudes of the city -- that is, in situations that really isolate, alienate, and fragment --- situations that militate against community and wholeness. The job of the urban hermit is to allow and witness to the redemption of these "unnatural solitudes." They are called to allow the grace of God to transform that which isolates and fragments into a place of genuine solitude where the individual grows to wholeness and holiness, and the crowd of the city is, in whatever mysterious way this can occur, drawn into or permeated by the reality of God's Reign.

Until now, I have written about bereavement, chronic illness, and isolated old age as possible instances of "unnatural solitudes" which lead people to discover eremitical calls, but there is no doubt that one of the most radical and intense solitudes that exists today --- and one of the most clearly unnatural --- is the world of the supermax prison. Prisoners in these prisons or in segregated cellblocks of less secure prisons spend 23 hours a day in their cells, often with little to distract or entertain them, much less enrich or challenge them to grow as human beings. Even recreation is a completely isolated activity. On the few programs I have seen about these institutions, the incidence of serious mental illness is terribly high, and all of it is exacerbated (when it is not caused) by the terrible toll this unnatural solitude takes.

I have read, fairly recently in fact, of some prisoners thinking of themselves (and living their lives) as part of a new monasticism. My sense is many could find themselves challenged and fulfilled if they were able to similarly approach each day as part of the eremitical life. Remember that there are distinct external similarities between life in prison and the routinized, often tedious horarium of monks and nuns. Further, they are all lives of hiddenness, and too, lives which society may discount as fruitless or non-productive. In many ways they are penitential and poor lives without access to luxuries, varieties of food which do more than simply nourish, and their cells are often much more austere than the cell of almost any monk or nun. On a more profound level, perhaps, hermits are called to live on the margins as countercultural realities and witnesses, and especially they are called to live a life of esential freedom in spite of limitations and constraints. This is the very nature of authentic Freedom, and certainly therefore, the nature of the freedom Christ brings. How clearly prisoner hermits would represent such a vocation both to their fellow prisoners and to the rest of society!

In considering this possibility it reminds me that Canon 603 binds a diocesan hermit to, "the silence of solitude" --- not as I once misread, "silence and solitude." It seems to me that while physical silence is an important aspect of eremitical life (and contemplative life in general), the reality of the "silence of solitude" is often quite different. This, though also quite rich and marked (in fact, defined) by communion with God and others, is the silence of loneliness (or at least of aloneness even in the midst of a crowd), the silence of the celibate who lives without community, the sometimes painful and difficult silence of life within and from one's own heart from which one seeks not to be distracted. It includes physical silence, yes, but it is more than this, and sometimes exists even without it. It is marked more by one's confrontation with oneself, and by the prayer which accompanies it and in which one brings all this before God. Prisoners often live in the midst of continuing noise, sometimes deafening, but in many (maybe all) prison situations, they can also still live in the silence of solitude. Usually in a prison environment this is clearly unaccompanied by external silence, and this is unfortunate because such silence is ordinarily so necessary, but the challenge of the reality remains (or could remain) as it does for any hermit.

Whether such men and women would be "better" hermits than those canonically professed and consecrated is a relatively meaningless question, I think. Certainly it does not advance the discussion in any subtantive or edifying way. It is true that the witness of these person's lives could speak to some better than other hermits might be able. The contrary is also true. Hermits come in all shapes and sizes and all forms of eremitical life (lay, religious, diocesan) are significant and should be esteemed. So long as each hermit lives the foundational elements of the life and in the particular shape s/he is called to, s/he is as good a hermit as any other. The roles each plays may differ but it does little good to suggest that the diocesan hermit is a "better" hermit than the lay hermit in the next state, or that the prisoner is a better hermit than one who is consecrated according to Canon 603. What IS true is that each hermit will challenge and support others to a truer living out of their individual call, no matter the state of life or the shape of the eremitism involved. Casting the whole matter in terms of better or worse tends to shortcircuit that whole far more healthy dynamic.

I think this whole notion of prisoner hermits needs to be explored in more depth. I also think that looking at what prisoners live daily can assist hermits in clarifying the meaning of the terms and foundational elements of their lives. For instance, looking at the question today has helped me move a little farther along an understanding of the term "silence of solitude" just as did a brief gesture by a married couple at the end of a desert day during my last retreat. The original casting of the idea in qualitative terms is not particularly helpful, but the idea that prisoners might, even temporarily, well be called to be hermits in the midst of one of the world's most difficult and radically unnatural solitudes is a terrific one. Thanks for posing the question!

Postscript. Recently a hermit friend noted that some are called to eremitical life, and others are "only" called to practice an eremitical spirituality. I have not thought enough about the distinction of these two; at times I think the distinction is completely valid and significant, and other times I just don't see it clearly. However, it would be good to see more reflection on the latter (eremitical spirituality) since prisoners in particular could be introduced to this without the onus of labels. At the same time, I think that some very few of those prisoners who are truly going to be in prison for the rest of their lives, for instance, might well represent instances of the hermit vocation which the church would eventually wish to recognize and even celebrate under Canon 603. The majority (however small a number this would be) would remain lay hermits (and still be cause for ecclesial celebration)! Again, hermits are made from the combination of the exigencies of life and the grace of God. A free choice, formation, and commitment would be required --- and I think very great care in discernment necessary, but prison does not exclude this any more than it excludes the grace of God.

The Role of the Diocesan Delegate: Just another Layer of Bureaucracy?

[[Dear Sister, can you say more about the [role of a] "diocesan delegate"? Not only have I never heard of it, but it seems to me this adds another layer of bureaucracy to something that is really defined much more simply in terms of Canon 603 or the Catechism. The person I quoted before cautioned about allowing this kind of thing to happen. What is it? How does it work?]]

Now this is a great question because although the "requirement" of a "diocesan delegate" (if one's diocese goes this direction) does add another level of bureaucracy, it is bureaucracy at the service of the individual hermit, her freedom, individuality, and simplicity --- the characteristics of eremitical life mentioned in your other post.

In my situation the diocesan delegate serves both the diocese and myself to foster the living out of my vocation with integrity and with attentiveness to both individual and ecclesial needs/requirements. The delegate is a superior or quasi-superior who, at the behest of the diocese, assumes this role in a way which allows me regular contact, discussion, discernment, sharing, etc, and which frees the Bishop up for less frequent meetings, consultation in more significant matters only, and so forth. It should go without saying that while Canon 603 specifies the "supervision of the local Bishop" it is a rare Bishop who is able to meet formally more than once or twice a year with a hermit, much less spend regular time hearing how life is going on a day to day basis.

A delegate on the other hand can meet with the hermit regularly, (approximately every couple of months or so depending on schedules), deal with regular issues of discernment or problems which arise, communicate with the diocese in case of need for consultation (in either direction!), and just generally be a more immediate presence whom the hermit can turn to between meetings with the Bishop, et al.

Canon 603 has non-negotiable elements (silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, stricter separation from the world, evangelical counsels, Rule of Life lived under the supervision of the Bishop) but how all these work in the life of an individual hermit (including the shape they assume in her Rule) must be discerned on an ongoing basis which is quite individual. Major changes in the Rule may require the Bishop's authorization (the Bp publishes a decree of approval for the Rule as such), but working all this out over time, dealing with issues of ongoing formation and education, determining what needs to go to the Bishop, and just sharing the joys and struggles of everyday life in solitude in a way which enhances one's accountability for all these is something (at least in my life) one needs and turns to a delegate for. (I suppose in some delegate-hermit relationships the hermit might turn to the delegate for more routine "permissions," for instance, but this particular way of approaching matters is probably very uncommon today and not particularly desirable except by way of exception). So, yes, from one perspective the diocesan delegate is another layer of bureaucracy, but it is a layer which allows for effective interplay between the non-negotiable and more individual elements of the hermit's life. It does not hamper this but encourages it.

By the way, cautions are well and good, but it helps to understand that Canons and Catechism provide the essentials (the legal nuts and bolts) in the Case of CL, or a kind of summary of a situation (or of a teaching, for instance) in the case of a Catechism definition or paragraph. Life is probably never so simple as law codifies, nor a catechism definition or description summarizes.

Followup on the Institutionalization of Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister Laurel, what I hear you saying is that hermits and their superiors are leading the way in the increased institutionalization of eremitical life and are doing so cautiously and only because lived experience leads to this. You said that love is prior to law. Is that right? Doesn't increased institutionalization endanger the hermit vocation? Is it really necessary to have public vows, rituals, religious and special garb, rings, initials after one's name, etc? Isn't all this elitist and doesn't it conflict with the individualism, simplicity, and hiddenness of the vocation? Also, is it the case that female hermits are forming clubs or groups which maybe they will allow male hermits to join? What is this all about?]]

Thanks for writing again. Yes, you heard me correctly regarding institutionalization (although I don't agree there is really much "increased institutionalization" going on). What there always is is reflection and dialogue about the nature of the vocation and how best to protect, and encourage its authentic growth. What I would stress again in regard to the issue of institutionalization though, increased or otherwise, is the need to maintain a balance between codification and individuality, etc. Generally Canon 603 does this by setting forth the essential characteristics of the life: silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, stricter separation from the world, vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, lived under the supervision of the local Bishop --- as well as mandating a Personal Rule or Plan of Life written by the hermit herself, and all of this for the praise of God and the salvation of the world. (Note therefore that the Canon itself protects the individuality and freedom of the vocation!)

Beyond this, as already mentioned then, individual hermits'(or their Bishops' and dioceses') lived experience continues to inform the contemporary approach to Canon 603, problems will arise, particularly helpful practices or guidelines will be developed, and other things will need to be addressed with norms or precedents (discernment, initial formation and its length, ongoing formation, ministry, etc). Most of these things are simply reflections of what is generally necessary for any person wanting to live healthily and fruitfully as a hermit. The solution to the tension between institutionalization and individual freedom continues to be the interplay between Canon 603, and the individual's own Rule as these are supervised by Bishop, and worked out with one's delegate, spiritual director, etc.

What we are speaking about on a deeper level in these questions is balancing the profoundly ecclesial or communal nature (koinonia) of the eremitical vocation with individual gifts, sensibilities, practices, weaknesses, and desires, or better stated perhaps, finding appropriate and effective ways a very individual vocation's ecclesial nature is best protected and expressed. In turn, this will help the individual and it will assist others in discerning such vocations. Additionally of course, it will ensure that an individual is living a vocation which truly contributes to the salvation of the world --- which is the very heart and reason for the eremitical vocation as it is for any other authentic vocation.

Throughout the history of eremitical life some degree of institutionalization has been necessary to prevent this vocation from becoming merely a refuge for excessive individualism and personal eccentricity, and to ensure that it retains the ecclesial dimension any truly human life or vocation always has. It is further necessary to ensure adequate formation, both initial and ongoing, and to make sure that vocational discernment is seriously undertaken by both the individual and the church. To mention a tiny part of eremitical history which I have noted before, the founder of the congregation I am associated with as an Oblate, St Romuald, was known as a reformer who went around sometimes gathering individual hermits into Lauras, generally giving them the Rule of Benedict to live under, and otherwise making sure they were living genuine eremitical lives and not eccentric, overly-individualistic ones.

Later (again to repeat history I have noted before) other Camaldolese like Peter-Damian continued reforming and reflecting on the ecclesial dimension of all hermit vocations. Sensitivity to koinonia was at the heart of their efforts. Even later, Paul Giustiniani determined that since the establishment of the Church's requirements that all faithful have regular access to the sacraments and so forth, solitary hermits living essentially cut off from these were now invalid. He saw the formation of Lauras as the best solution. Though Giustiniani's concern seems legalistic, it represents increased reflection on the ecclesial underpinnings of any vocation, but in particular, the eremitical call. Bl Paul saw the formation of Lauras as the best solution because Lauras could be established far from inhabited centers protecting solitude and at the same time these would serve to curb all the dangers that beset solitary eremitical life. They provided the mix of community and solitude so essential to even the vocation of the recluse. Throughout the history of the Church the tension between institutionalization and individual freedom has existed. At many points institutionalization served to protect the vocation itself, especially in its communal or lived-within-the-church and for-others dimensions. Once again koinonia is at the core of these hermits' concerns and sensitivities.

Canon 603 is an option which allows hermits the same standing as others with public vows, etc, but without demanding they give up their solitary hermit existence. It seeks to balance both dimensions precisely so hiddenness is eremitical hiddenness and not something else. It consecrates lives marked by the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, etc while it ensures they are instances of authentic and ecclesial vocations. Further, with some of the symbols you mentioned (ring, garb, ritual), it makes it clear that such vocations are lived in the heart of the church today witnessing to others. Of course it also makes clear that such calls come out of the church's own life, that they are mediated to the individual through God's church and not otherwise.

Certainly there are other options for living the eremitical life in the church today. Religious hermits (Camaldolese, Carthusians, Brothers and Sisters of Bethlehem, some Carmelite foundations, etc) are wonderful examples of one option. And of course, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church makes clear, lay eremitical life is always an option, and one which is less institutionalized than diocesan eremitism. For those who believe that "institutionalization" taints the purity or simplicity of the eremitical life, rather than protecting and enhancing it, this is certainly one way to go. From my own perspective such a path is at times more difficult than diocesan eremitism (especially in terms of perseverence and the freedom fostered by obedience), and in other ways (especially in terms of accountability on many levels), far less demanding. However, both are valid and significant ways to live an eremitical life today.

As for your last question, I really don't know what this refers to. Hermits don't have "clubs" nor are they generally or as a group given to gender bias. If you can clarify the reference for me it would help. Regarding elitism linked to rings, initials, rituals, etc please see other posts I have put up here on these. If these are inadequate, feel free to get back to me.

On the Growing Institutionalization of Eremitical Life

Well, Christmastide is almost over (marked by the Baptism of Jesus) and it is time to get back to some of the more regular things I need to do. Writing here is one of those (writing generally is one of those!), and responding to questions is a piece of that. One person writes as follows,

[[Sister Laurel, I read the following online . . . and wonder if you would comment on the growing institutionalization of eremitical life.]]

[[. . . has noted from internet blogs, articles and updates, that there is a growing trend among some hermits, mostly the canonical approved variety, that some through much wordage and repetition, based upon assumed authority, or even stated expertise, have begun to make regulations by setting precedence. What can evolve are rules, laws, set ways of how this or that must be done, called Precedent Law. Noticed a few Dioceses have bought into it, adopted the regulations and are imposing them. Perhaps without even knowing from whence they came. . . . is reminded of childhood. Something innate in little girls to want to organize, set up and play house, make a club. Sometimes they can find a little boy or two to come and play with them. Tell him what to do, and some do it. He is the daddy or baby brother to the little girls' house roles. Lots of rules. Do this. Do that. I'm the mommy. Do as I say.]]

My first response is this is a pretty cynical and simplistic (not to mention offensive) way of looking at what is happening in terms of eremitical life, and in particular, diocesan eremitical life. It reflects a rather common notion of the way law is related to life which should NOT be carelessly generalized. So, is there growing institutionalization? Yes, perhaps, but it is neither extensive nor particularly intensive at this point. If it exists it is also quite slow-growing, which I consider a good thing in the main. Canon 603 and the life it describes is an instance of this. Bishops have been, and continue to be, cautious with this vocation and that is generally a good thing. Do hermits themselves contribute to it to some extent? Yes, but usually with gritted teeth, ample cautions regarding the freedom and diversity of eremitical life, and with heels dug in to prevent these from being seriously transgressed against by over-legalizations and codifications. Most hermits will completely resonate with Dom Jean LeClercq's definition of the hermit life, "the hermit is the person who, in the church, is united to God with a minimum of structure." With canon 603's creation and implementation the trick was and still is to allow for sufficient institutionalization (which helps ensure a genuinely ecclesial vocation) while allowing for the simplicity and essential freedom of the life itself; everyone I know (of) is aware of and careful of this. So where does this move towards "greater institutionalization" currently come from --- at least as far as I am aware?

It seems to me the Church is beginning to have a larger number of canonical hermits with lived experience of Canon 603, its strengths, weaknesses, and essential values as lived out in the contemporary church and world. Because of this lived experience hermits inform their Bishops (or, if they have other ways of communicating, others who are concerned with consecrated life in the Church) of what is working, what is not and how things can be improved upon, what is absolutely necessary for the life, what variations are legitimate, which variations seem to be illegitimate in a general sense, what is prudent or not, etc. For the most part all of this comes from what the hermits themselves have found to be the case, what they are actually living on the ground, and particularly what they are living with the assistance of the Holy Spirit and the Church's own monastic and eremitical traditions in dialogue with the 20 and 21st centuries. It does not, on the other hand, tend to come from Rome, or from the hierarchy more generally as an imposition from above or outside the life itself. It certainly does not come from women hermits needing to be "Mom" or to fulfill "house roles", etc!

One area that comes to mind which seems to call for greater institutionalization or formalization (though cautiously, VERY cautiously), and one I have written on before is that of formation of hermits. I have said that hermits are made out of the exigencies of life and the grace of God (remember Merton said hermits are made by difficult Mothers and the grace of God). However, a part of both of these is the personal formation an individual is responsible for getting or participating in on a lifetime basis. What I have noted about this in the past is that dioceses do NOT form hermits. They recognize and evaluate (discern) vocations when they come through the door of the Office of the Vicar for Religious, et al. They may also assist a person in getting further formation by referring them to communities who have agreed to help, seminaries who provide such, spiritual directors, etc, but in no case that I know of do dioceses take a complete novice to eremitical life and "form them" as hermits. Again, what dioceses tend to find (and something I have written about from my own experience) is that in some essential sense the person must be a hermit when she walks through the chancery door to petition for admission to vows under Canon 603.

Because this is the case, lots of questions are raised. Some include: what formation is necessary? Can anyone be a hermit even without formation? How does an individual achieve the necessary formation? (Must they be part of a religious community for some time, for instance?) What is required? Where is it best achieved? Who pays for it (the answer is ALWAYS the hermit herself unless she is part of a congregation for some of this time)? What happens if a person has no resources available to them? What is adequate formation for eremitical life and what is not? What happens to needs for therapy (if this is an individual need), direction, etc and how do these figure into the discernment of a vocation? To discernment about the quality of continuing in this vocation? How about ministry in the limited ways hermits may undertake ministry apart from their life of prayer: what constitutes adequate formation here and how is it undertaken? Who oversees all this: before profession? After perpetual profession? What is the Bishop's or diocese's role in all of this? What role does a "diocesan delegate" serve and is it a necessary role in assisting both hermit and diocese in fulfilling the demands of Canon 603 and this vocation?

Note well though, again, all of these questions are imposed or raised in the living of the life itself. They are not imposed or raised from the outside as though they are not intrinsic to the living of the life, or as though they reflect some legalistic or disciplinary mindset which merely likes to multiply requirements, for instance. Further, no diocesan hermits themselves are imposing such "regulations" on anyone. Hermits and their Bishops find that given certain prudential practices the hermit vocations they have experience with are good (exemplary, joyful, etc), and that without taking the time to be certain of these prudential practices or requirements, the vocations that have resulted can be a greater cause of scandal and disappointment.

Another area that comes to mind is length of time required before first profession or until perpetual profession. What is really generally necessary because of the nature of the vocation itself? How will this differ from person to person and why? The Canon does not spell this out and the canons for religious life do not fit eremitical vocations as neatly as one might wish --- though they are important considerations. Therefore, in general, what is a reasonable period of time for 1) living as a lay hermit before petitioning for profession? 2) temporary profession, 3) preparing in a conscious and discerning way for perpetual profession? Lived experience says that some dioceses have not allowed enough time in this entire process and so, have been imprudent, while others, for various reasons, have extended the time frames inordinately and perhaps harmed or at least endangered vocations in the process. Because of this it is true that hermits inform their Bishops (et al) regarding their own experience in this, while dioceses assess their own experience, and the result may be a precedent being set as a general guideline. Again though, the precedent stems from lived experience; it is not merely imposed from outside by someone with a bent for control, etc.

A third area that raises questions and calls for Bishops and Hermits both to answer on the basis of lived experience is ministry (or work) outside the hermitage (or apart from the strictly legislated elements of the vocation). Everyone needs to know that eremitical life involves a spectrum from complete reclusion to limited ministry and even work outside the hermitage. However, what is really legitimate and what is not if a person is to truly be and remain a hermit? Precedents are set here on the basis of a lived experience of hermits who grow in their appropriation of their vocation, or who caution against certain things because it really does seem to hinder or prevent such growth. Precedents are not set arbitrarily by lawyers or hermits with a penchant for legalism or control.

For instance, the Canon (603) defines the vocation in terms of "stricter separation from the world." It does not say absolute reclusion. It does not say, "no outside ministry." At the same time, it does recognize that the silence of solitude is primary and that this along with stricter separation from the world and assiduous prayer and penance demands one actually be open to being called to greater and greater degrees of reclusion, if God wills that at any point. Because of this a diocese might adopt the precedent that all outside ministry should be evaluated regularly to be sure the hermit's life is truly one where the silence of solitude and stricter separation from the world (etc) are foundational and not secondary to ministry. It is lived experience which serves as the basis for such a precedent.

Finally, it should be noted again that hermits also make sure their Bishops hear what is necessary to ensure the flexibility and freedom of the hermit life. What should NOT be legislated? What cannot be effectively legislated except in the hermit's own Rule or Plan of Life? Where should rules (as opposed to a Rule or Regula) give way to lived experience in a way which leads to exceptions being made? What are common instances of this? Again, as I have written before, ordinarily in the Church law serves love ---- or is certainly meant to serve love. This means love of God, love (in this case) of the eremitical vocation and tradition, love of the Church as People of God, love of consecrated life and the vows that serve freedom in this life. It is generally up to diocesan hermits and their superiors to determine law which works in this way and no other. At least with regard to Canon 603 the precedents I have seen and heard hermits speak and write about tend to be guided by this concern and this priority --- which translates into a concern for the integrity and charism of the vocation. In any case, control (or, as your poster noted, "an innate [desire] to organize," etc) is usually pretty far from the hermit's heart and mind.

I hope this helps. If it raises more questions or is unclear I hope you will get back to me.

Rule Of Benedict, January 1, May 2, September 1

Three times a year Benedictines read through the rule of St Benedict and tomorrow we begin anew. The tone is patient, the advice wise and measured. It is a good way to begin the new calendar year (and for me it is wonderful that the third time through begins again on my own birthday). In every way I get the impression that it is fine to begin anew. On a holiday when people are formulating resolutions, this passage from the prologue to Benedict's Rule strikes just the right note I think --- not only for our own spirituality, but for the world which so badly needs us to be what Saint Benedict describes.


January 1, May 2, September 1

Prologue

L I S T E N carefully, my child,
to your master's precepts,
and incline the ear of your heart (Prov. 4:20).
Receive willingly and carry out effectively
your loving father's advice,
that by the labor of obedience
you may return to Him
from whom you had departed by the sloth of disobedience.

To you, therefore, my words are now addressed,
whoever you may be,
who are renouncing your own will
to do battle under the Lord Christ, the true King,
and are taking up the strong, bright weapons of obedience.

And first of all,
whatever good work you begin to do,
beg of Him with most earnest prayer to perfect it,
that He who has now deigned to count us among His children
may not at any time be grieved by our evil deeds.
For we must always so serve Him
with the good things He has given us,
that He will never as an angry Father disinherit His children,
nor ever as a dread Lord, provoked by our evil actions,
deliver us to everlasting punishment
as wicked servants who would not follow Him to glory.

Alleluia, Alleluia!! Hodie Christus Natus Est!

The scandal of the incarnation is one of the themes we neglect at Christmastime or, at best, allude to only indirectly. Nor is there anything wrong with that. We live through the struggles of our lives in light of the moments of hope and joy our faith provides and there is nothing wrong with focusing on the wonder and joy of the birth of our savior. There is nothing wrong with sentimentality nor with all the light and glitter and sound of our Christmas preparations and celebrations. For a brief time we allow the joy of the mystery of Christmas to predominate. We focus on the gift God has given, and the gift we ourselves are meant to become in light of this very special nativity.

Among other things we look closely at the series of "yesses" that were required for this birth to come to realization, the barreness that was brought to fruitfulness in the power of the Holy Spirit. The humbleness of the birth is a piece of all this, of course, but the scandal, the offense of such humbleness in the creator God's revelation of self is something we neglect, not least because we see all this with eyes of faith --- eyes which suspend the disbelief of rationality temporarily so that we can see instead the beauty and wonder which are also there. The real challenge of course is to hold both truths, scandal and beauty, together in a sacramental paradox.

And so I have tried to do in this symbol of the season. This year my Christmas tree combines both the wonder and the scandal of the incarnation, the humbleness of Jesus' estate in human terms, and the beauty of a world transformed with the eyes of love. Through the coming week the readings are serious (massacre of the holy innocents, a warning about choosing "the world," and so forth --- all interspersed with reminders that darkness has been unable to quench the divine light that has come into our world, and the inarticulate groaning which often marks this existence has been brought to a new and joy-filled articulateness in the incarnate Word. Everything, we believe, can become sacramental; everything a symbol of God's light and life amongst us; everything a song of joy and meaning! And so too with this fragile "Charlie Brown" tree.

All good wishes for a wonderful Christmastide for all who read here, and to all of your families.

Fourth Week of Advent, 2009

All the Nations Shall Proclaim his happiness! (Ps 72:17)

Tomorrow's Gospel is the Genealogy of Jesus according to Matthew. It is not unusual to have our eyes glaze over as this is read in Church. If we have to read it ourselves, we may scan the passage as we read along to find out just how much longer this goes on, how many more unpronounceable names we have in front of us! If we are particularly creative we may focus on the individual names and see how much OT history we recall. Feminists are apt to focus on the few but significant women's names included here quite against the tradition of such genealogies! Judith, Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Mary are all mentioned --- important because they are women of ill-repute, irregularity, or barrenness graced by God in a way which makes them pivotal in both divine and human history. A very few will be excited by this long recital of somewhat familiar but mainly alien names, but generally, the genealogy is a challenge to listeners and preachers. What, after all, did Matthew intend here? Why did he construct this list in such a carefully theological (and historically inaccurate) way? What does he want us to hear?

The thing that strikes me most about this lection is the plan of God it outlines, and especially the patience with which God carries this out. Throughout history men and women have responded in greater and lesser ways and degrees to the Word and will of God. History is the story of the intertwining of divine and human destinies and in the Christ event all this comes to a climax. In Jesus divine and human histories are inextricably wed. God allows us to participate in his very future. He profoundly desires us to be a living part of that future. All throughout history he affirms and reaffirms that he has chosen not to remain alone; that, if we will only not refuse him, he will be our God and we will be his people. This is God's will and destiny. It is also quite literally his delight and joy!

There is a reason I hear this in tomorrow's Gospel. About 25 years ago I was struggling with quiet prayer. There comes a point in contemplative prayer marked by a letting go, and sometimes by a shift in consciousness and awareness --- a kind of altered state of attentiveness. I found, unfortunately, that some parts of this point or process reminded me of the sensations that accompanied the loss of consciousness and/or control preceding or accompanying the beginning of a seizure. Thus, as I approached this moment in prayer I found myself becoming frightened and I refused or at least resisted letting go and giving myself over to the prayer (and so, over to God's activity within and around me). One evening, I was working with my spiritual director and in order to help me through this, she held out her hands and asked me to rest mine on hers. Then she instructed me to just do what I would ordinarily do in approaching contemplative or quiet prayer. I did and immediately went deeper than I had perhaps ever gone before. God was waiting (indeed, he was really leading) and he was completely delighted! He "said" to me (silently but really), "Finally! I have been waiting SUCH a long time for this moment!" There was not a smidgin of recrimination, no blame, no reference to sin or to disappointment or sadness in my regard. God's joy was unalloyed and revealed his very nature in this and his complete patience.

I think we sometimes forget this side of things. Partly it is because we focus on ourselves in prayer, and partly it may be because we were taught some version of God's impassibility. But really, it is rather like something that always strikes me about the Sacrament of penance. We all know that this Sacrament is a gift --- that in it we receive the grace of mercy and forgiveness, love, support and encouragement. How often do we pause to ponder the gift our confession is to the confessor? And yet, that is one thing that is often very clear when we receive the Sacrament today. Similarly then, we rightly emphasize that God gives himself to us, that his love, mercy, and forgiveness are gifts to us, but how often do we regard ourselves as the gifts which God himself has patiently but ardently desired and waited through the aeons to receive? How often do we see God working unceasingly through generation after generation after generation just for the Word only we can speak and become in response, for the gift only we can become and give in gratitude and joy? How often do we consider that God is truly delighted with this gift --- whatever its condition or history? How often do we stop to reflect on the truth that, in fact, he desires nothing so much as this and, in some mysterious way, will be incomplete without it?

Christmas is the season marking the nativity of the One in whom both human and divine history reach their goal and climax. It has been long in coming, engineered and directed with infinite patience and desire despite all of the human resistance and refusal God has also endured. Tomorrow's Gospel marks all of this dramatically, but in a way which challenges us to hear with new ears what is most often a deadly dull wholly uninspired recital. On Christimas, we will celebrate the fact that God entrusts his Son to us --- fragile, weak, powerless and wholly dependent; God looks to us to mark the climax of a long preparatory history and reciprocate with our own lives. My prayer is that each of us can approach Christmas with a sense of just how ardently God desires and delights in the gifts we make of ourselves --- and of course, that, with God's assistance, we can find the courage to let go past our resistances, doubts, insecurities, fears, and guilt, and commit ourselves into the arms of an overjoyed God.

A Closed or Hardened Heart: The Essential Blindness

I wrote this for last Friday, but didn't get it posted there in time. I am putting it up here instead for the time being.

Today's Gospel is sometimes trivialized. We think perhaps that people were upset because Jesus was some sort of "party animal" and that they contrasted that with the asceticism of John the Baptist and other prophets only to take exception to Jesus --- as though the Scriptures are really contrasting two different approaches to spirituality. But what Matthew is getting at in today's Gospel is that very often we are unable or refuse to see with the eyes of our hearts, and we therefore reject the very revelation of God that stands in front of us --- no matter the guise. We act childishly by refusing to admit either our needs or to humble ourselves in a way which allows God to respond to them as he wills (rather than as we will!). We neither repent nor do we celebrate God's presence in true faith; instead we concern ourselves with conforming the world (and the God who is its creator and Lord) to our own (often religious) demands and expectations.

Jesus has just finished a long exposition comparing and contrasting himself with John the Baptist. He is speaking to his own friends, family, and neighbors (Bethsaida is a center of Galilee and so, a center of Jesus' own home-life). And, as always, his speech is honest and challenging! He is reminding them they thronged out to see John and have now rejected him precisely because he WAS what they were supposedly looking for, and he does so by putting some sharp questions to them: What did you expect to see? A reed blowing in the wind? (Did you go out looking for someone tossed about by the wind of current fashion and concerns, or were you looking for something less transitory?) Did you go out seeking someone dressed in the clothes of nobles and Kings or someone dressed as a prophet, a true desert dweller and messenger of God? Were you seeking a prophet or not? Jesus completes his series of questions by affirming that indeed John the Baptist was precisely what people were looking for, and more in fact --- the greatest of the prophets and the forerunner of the messiah! And yet, a fickle people turned away from John and said he had a demon instead --- the surest religious way to denigrate and dismiss someone and the most effective way to be sure others don't follow him!

At the same time, Jesus has come with news of the arrival of the Kingdom of God and acts accordingly. No mourning ascetic He celebrates with his disciples by feasting and drinking! And so, his friends and neighbors label him a drunkard and a glutton --- an accusation, we should remember, a Son's family could accuse him of to Temple officials in order to have him stoned to death! [There was a precise formula in this matter and we read it today in Deuteronomy. The parents would come to the Temple and say, "This son of ours. . ." and accuse him of being a drunkard and glutton, disobedient and willful. If the charges were sustained, the Son would be put to death.] The fear was that through his disobedience, etc, this Son would bring evil upon Israel and perhaps even show himself to be a false prophet who would lead her seriously astray. Better deal with such a person in a preventative and definitive way than risk such damage!

Jesus uses the story of children at play with make-believe games to characterize the immaturity and hardness of heart of those he is addressing, those he calls, "this generation." He describes two groups of kids, one who tries to get the other to join in the games, and one who simply will not. The first group plays the wedding game and pipes a joyful tune, but the second group stands off refusing to be moved by the music, the song, or the comraderie. When this fails, the first group switches to the funeral game and sings a dirge --- something perhaps more appropriate to the second group's mood, but again, the second group of children are recalcitrant and simply refuse to be moved or join in. It is hard to imagine a symbol of something which is able to move us more completely than the music at either a wedding or a funeral. One form moves us to dance and the other to deep sorrow. This music speaks to our hearts, that is, to the core of ourselves and to that which symbolizes our whole selves in Scripture. And yet, John the Baptist came preaching repentance, moved by mourning over a badly sinful people, and was rejected by many of those Jesus now addresses as being moved by Satan. Jesus himself came "piping a song" -- so to speak -- of celebration and tremendous joy, and he too is labelled a false prophet, demon-possessed (later also in Matt), a danger to authentic religion, and set up for execution!

But perhaps there is one thing which moves us to open our hearts even more than the music mentioned: the birth of a baby, the appearance of an infant swaddled in his parents' arms or trundled around in a stroller. I don't think I have personally ever seen someone incapable of being moved by a newborn baby --- though of course there are stories where humanity's worst attrocities are marked by a hardness of heart to even these most helpless and fragile among us. In the NT we have the story of the massacre of the innocents. In contemporary history we have slaughters and holocausts which seem never to abate. Still, when I reflect on the Feast of the Nativity of Christ which we are each preparing to celebrate it seems clear that a huge part of our God coming to us in this way is God's desire to touch our hearts, break them open anew and rescue us from any essential blindness that afflicts us. Advent gives us readings which echo John the Baptist's "piping of songs" of repentance and mourning intertwined with Jesus' "tunes" of celebration and feasting. Christmas gives us the birth of an infant meant to break open even the hardest of hearts with gratitude and wonder so that we can begin to consider and shape our lives according to a God whose power is truly perfected in weakness.

Will we resist or join in wholeheartedly? Will we remain untouched and blindly cynical as the children in Jesus' parable, or will we "play the games" and dance to the tunes of authentic faith which allows God to reshape our lives as his true children and people of real vision? Will we see what stands right in front of us or turn away uncomprehendingly? My prayers to all for a good Advent as we each continue to prepare our hearts for the coming anew of such a surprising and challenging God!

Revisiting the Question of Disedifying (reactive) Withdrawal

[[Dear Sister, for someone already professed as a hermit, are the dangers of withdrawing for negative reasons as strong as the danger of getting too involved (for instance, in parish life)? I wondered because your post on reactive withdrawal seemed to indicate this was the case.]]

Thanks for the question! Once one has, with the Church herself, discerned a vocation to be (and especially been professed as) a diocesan hermit, the danger of removing oneself from the solitude of the cell is more dangerous. In my experience, if one has discerned a vocation to eremitical life in this way then the major danger --- choosing solitude because one is withdrawing in a reactive or disedifying way --- shifts or changes. One's vocation, everyone now agrees, is mainly to remain in cell and live out one's solitude in this way. One does this because God calls one to this primarily. That is really the defining characteristic of the eremitical life. The temptation one faces more usually is now more that of leaving the cell for insufficient and disedifying reasons.

However, for the hermit who also finds herself called to some limited degree of parish ministry, it can happen that she might "duck" some legitimate challenges of the active dimension of her life for less than legitimate reasons. The need to discern what is happening remains, but now the presumption is that one is generally called to remain in cell and if one errs in discernment, one should probably err on this side of things. The burden of discernment shifts so that one must be more careful about justifying reasons to leave her hermitage. Note that the need to be able to discern one's motives has not changed. What changes is the perspective from which one decides. In my original post I was addressing the question of discerning the reasons one may feel drawn to solitude and noting that one should be aware that not all reasons are good ones or indicate a vocation to solitude -- especially to eremitical solitude. With regard to your question, the person has already discerned such a call and done so with the Church's assistance and approval. I hope this helps. Again, good question.

"Gaudete" by Karl Rahner

[[As the Autumn season fades and the Winter takes over, the world becomes still. Everything around us turns pale and drab. It chills us. We are least inclined to hectic activities. More than in other seasons of the year, we prefer to stay at home and be alone. It is as if the world had become subsued and lost the courage to assert its self-satisfaction, the courage to be proud of its power and its life. Its progressive growth in the swelling fullness of the Spring and Summer has faded, for the fullness has vanished, In this season, time itself bears eloquent witness to its own poverty. It disappoints us.

Here is the moment to conquer the melancholy of time, here is the moment to say softly and sincerely what we know by faith:"Gaudete, let us rejoice. I believe in the eternity of God who has entered into our time, my time. Beneath the wearisome coming and going of chronological time, life that no longer knows death is already secretly growing. It is already here, it is already in me, precisely because I believe."

Time is no longer the bleak, empty, fading succession of moments, one moment destroying the preceding one and causing it to become "past," only to die away itself, clearing the way for the future that presses --- itself already mortally wounded. Time itself is redeemed. It possesses a centre that can preserve the present and gather itself into the future, a nucleus that fills the present with the future that is already effected, a focal point that coordinates the living present with the eternal furure. The advent of the incarnate God, of the Christ who is the same yesterday, and today, and in eternity --- this advent has penetrated into this time that is to be redeemed.

A "now" of eternity is in you. And this "now" has already begun to gather together your earthly moments into itself. For into your heart comes the One who is himself Advent, the Boundless Future who is already in the process of coming, the Lord himself who has already come into the time of the flesh to redeem it.]]

From The Eternal Year, by Karl Rahner

Advent 2009, Week Three

Belated Good Wishes for Advent!!

Well, here it is, the end of the second week in Advent and I have added nothing to this blog except a picture for the first week! Life here at the hermitage has been fine. I have spent a few days cleaning out stuff I have accumulated over the years (mainly books and papers, but other things as well!) and still have some ways to go! My apologies to readers though! Sometimes preparing the way for the coming of Christ means getting rid of stuff and that takes time and energy away from other things.

This preparation happens on a number of levels of course, but it is amazing what material things can represent for us. The clearing out of stuff can be done prayerfully and when it is, that includes a period of remembering what was, what we dreamed of and hoped for, what we clung (and perhaps still cling) to for security or sentimentality, or that we just hold onto because we don't know what else quite to do with it! It can include gratitude for the present --- for the healing and love others have brought one to, and commitment to reflect more fully whatever vocation God has graced us with. All in all it is a challenging and compelling project, worthy of the beginning of Advent or Lent, and certainly worthy of the attempt to prepare oneself for a deeper and more complete dependence upon God and trust in the future he has opened for us.

Belated though this is, I wish readers a wonderfully fruitful Advent! May it be a time of preparation to meet anew and afresh the God who comes to us in weakness and who is found in the unexpected place. May it also be a time to look at the baggage we each carry around with us, and may we commit ourselves to letting go of whatever we no longer need and which serves merely to weigh us down in our journey to follow the poor Christ!

First Sunday in Advent 2009

Reactive Withdrawal vs Responsive Anachoresis: Followup Question

[[ Dear Sister Laurel, could you give some examples of the difference between reactive withdrawal and responsive anachoresis? I think I understand what you are saying but I want to be sure. How do hermits become aware of the difference? When you say one is edifying and one is disedifying what do you mean?]]

Yes, I can try to give some examples. Let's say a person does not do well with people and just withdraws from their presence to ease the discomfort of being in company. That is probably reactive withdrawal. Or, for instance, someone is having a bad day and is feeling depressed so they withdraw; that too could be reactive rather than responsive. If someone gets angry and walks away from a situation rather than staying and working it out, that is likely to be reactive rather than responsive. Or if one simply does not desire to deal with the complexities of society, withdrawal can be reactive. In each of these cases, one reacts to a situation and stimulus (anger, depression, dislike, fear, lack of desire, etc) by pulling or walking away. Their withdrawal is not a centered act of their whole person which is rooted in thoughtfulness, generosity, or love. In each of these cases withdrawal is a means of unconsidered almost instinctual escape from a stimulus, even if the escape later to be understood to have been a prudent thing which protected others from one's acting out one's anger, etc.

On the other hand, responsive anachoresis is precisely withdrawal undertaken not as a reaction to some noxious stimulus, but instead is chosen out of love, generosity, and with reflection. One withdraws in this way because God calls one to do so, because solitude is life-giving to oneself and others, not merely because it is protective or simplifies the situation. In this form of withdrawal the act is not a reaction, but a response. It is not so much withdrawal from life or challenge in an unthinking stimulus-response way as it is a considered and thoughtful withdawal for the sake of life and challenge. It is a response to God's invitation, God's will that life prevail over death and meaning over meaninglessness.

When I say that hermits need to be able to discern the difference in their own lives I mean simply that we each feel the pull of situations both like those in the first paragraph, and those in the second. We need to be able to discern the distinction. (In the following examples I am assuming that one has truly discerned an eremitical vocation for the right reasons, not as a matter of reactive withdrawal. With this as a given I can focus on everyday discernment.) For instance, on a given day I may feel punk and wish to lay low (and, whether rightly or wrongly, I can always justify doing so on the basis of my vocational state) but I may feel genuinely called to go to the parish for Mass and morning coffee. On another day I may want badly to go to Mass and coffee, but feel that what is really God's will for me at that time (what is more lifegiving and important) is to remain in cell. In each case one action is reactive and one is responsive. In the first situation staying in is reactive withdrawal; in the second what I have described (staying in cell despite what I want to do) is responsive anachoresis. The problem, of course, is hermits can justify withdrawing for the wrong reasons fairly easily, and this would be a serious mistake in discernment. Because we sometimes feel both God's call, and the urgings of anger, depression, loneliness, etc at the same time, we can be either responsive or reactive. Telling the difference is not always easy and the situation may be ambiguous, but we need to work to be able to discern properly.

In a time when the hermit vocation is finding more adherents and many others who like to think of themselves as hermits, and when the stereotypical hermit is one who runs and hides from reality, we have to be really clear on the difference between reactive withdrawal and responsive anachoresis. Only the latter drives authentic eremitical vocations.

When I say that one thing (reactive withdrawal) is disedifying, what I mean is that such behavior does not build up the Body of Christ, does not serve the Gospel of Freedom, and does not bring light or life to the Church or world as a whole. (For instance if we merely react to anger, tiredness, depression, we remain in bondage to these powers in our life. This hardly builds up the Body of Christ.) When I say that something is edifying I mean the opposite: that is, it does build up the body of Christ, it does serve the Gospel of Freedom and its proclamation, and it does bring light and life to the Church and world. In particular responsive anachoresis says that God is always with us, always available to us, is able to transform even our most bitter moments with his love and mercy. It says that freedom to choose redemption in the face of bondage is possible at every point in our lives. It says that solitude is something other than mere isolation, something communal and ecclesial, something whole-making (i.e, sanctifying) and salvific. And for this reason it says to those who cannot choose other than physical isolation, that this can be redeemed and be a source of life and genuine freedom for the one isolated and for the whole world.

Excursus: By the way, I didn't note this specifically, but it should be seen that hermits can be reactive not only in withdrawing, but in running out to do errands, have coffee with parishioners, etc. One of the important aspects of eremitical stability is to learn to discern when love calls one to remain in cell and when it calls one out. Most of the time, one is called to remain in silence and solitude out of true obedience and love. In either case it is not simply what is loving, but what is most loving (and most serves the will of God in charity) given the state of one's life. As I have said before, in eremitical life the most difficult choices, I have found, are not between good and evil, but between competing goods. However, the main point is that withdrawal or the decision not to remain in (physical) solitude can both be either reactive or responsive. Again, the hermit must be able to discern which is which in her own life at any given point in time.

Exclusion or Inclusion: How is God truly Honored?

Today's Gospel is the continuation of a series of stories in which Luke describes what happens when Jesus is invited to dinner. He is dining with Pharisees and for them it is a decidedly uncomfortable occasion. Jesus has brought them to a point of crisis or decision; he has challenged them far beyond their social or religious comfort zone, and he has asked them to change the way they behave towards others in absolutely fundamental ways in order to really do the will of God. You may remember, he has just finished rebuking them for asking friends to dinner instead of the poor and disabled, that is for seeking honor and avoiding shame by asking to dinner those who could reciprocate (and so, give further honor) rather than those who could not. He affirms that if they behave as he demands they will find their reward at the resurrection of the just.

At this point, the point where today's Gospel begins, one of the Pharisees (I imagine him as the parish armchair theologian or the believer who rejects social justice as having anything to do with the gospel or with Church per se!) burbles on with, "Blessed is he who eats bread in the Kingdom of God." In other words, he tries to divert the focus from the here-and-now demands Jesus has made to a far more comfortable and pious reflection on heaven and the eschatological banquet --- as though that was the real thrust of Jesus' instruction thus far!

But Jesus will have none of it. Instead he tells another parable which sharpens the demands he has already made of these Pharisees; he intensifies the crisis they face, and refocuses attention onto their present meal practices. As Robert Farrar Capon puts the matter, [[(Jesus) launches straight into a story which bumps his hearers off the bus bound for the heavenly suburbs and deposits them back into the seediest part of town!]] (Parables of Grace, p 131)

The story Jesus tells is of a Master who invites guests to a great feast, and who, in the ordinary scheme of things, is shamed when those who are "worthy" of attending refuse his invitation for religiously acceptable reasons. As a result he sends his servants out in two different forays to actively seek out those who are seen as unworthy of attending the feast. The progression is significant: first the servant seeks out the disabled and poor or oppressed. Then, the net is cast wider to the prostitutes, pickpockets, tax collectors --- in general the social riffraff of both town and country. According to usual standards the attendance of none of these would bring honor to the Master. Rather, it would shame him --- as would his actively seeking them out. But in choosing to bring them into the feast and sending servants out after them, the parable serves to criticize and subvert the foundational honor/shame value-system of his society. On this basis alone Jesus' story would be shocking to his hearers.


But there is another dimension which gives Jesus' choice of substitute guests an added importance --- and an added impact --- an even greater shaking of the foundations on which the Pharisees' reality rests. Remember that the Essene community of this time celebrated meals which anticipated the eschatological Banquet just as our own meals, and especially our own Eucharists anticipate this. The Essenes, as was true of many Jews in Jesus' day, saw themselves as participants in a holy war against sin and evil and to help ensure God's victory in this they stressed the importance of freedom from ritual and moral impurity. As a result certain people were ineligible to participate in community life, and especially in community meals. These included the lame, blind, crippled, paralyzed, and otherwise afflicted (never mind prostitutes, thieves, collaborators and tax collectors, etc)!! The basic religious strategy for winning this "holy war" was exclusion. This separatist strategy was one the Pharisees and most Jews also adopted with regard to the world around them --- at least if they wanted to worship as Jews.

Jesus' parable, however, overturns this basic religious stratagem as well. It is not just the foundational social structure and mores Jesus turns on their head, but the religious ones as well. What matters to the Master in Jesus' story (as Luke tells it) is that his house be filled, his feast be celebrated and enjoyed. Where that is done he is well and truly honored. As Paul has been telling us throughout Romans as well, God's strategy for dealing with evil is inclusion, not exclusion, participation in, not isolation from. Our God is one who himself goes out into the hedgerows to seek out and bring the unworthy back with him. He searches for and welcomes the ritually and morally impure, the godless and despised. (And yes, he of course sends his servants out in the same way!) He is honored only when NO ONE, and no part of ourselves, is excluded, only when those who cannot reciprocate and have nothing to offer on their own are brought into the feast. Our God is the One who brings all of us, each and every broken and unclean sinner of us, into the community of Christ so that he may love us into wholeness and holiness. That is our God's strategy for dealing with evil! This is the way he conducts a holy war!

Today in the Church there is a movement afoot to create a "leaner, meaner, purer" remnant community of "faith." If there is anything today's Gospel teaches with a startling vividness and a stunning contemporaneity, it is that such a church has nothing to do with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. An emphasis on purity and exclusion may work in some areas of the world (not the only example, certainly, but bioweapons labs come to mind here!), but not in terms of the God Jesus reveals to us, and certainly not in terms of any reality we would be courageous (or honest) enough to call the body or Church of Jesus Christ!