A Little Bit of Lectio: Who Do You Say that I am?

There is something startling about the second question in today's Gospel. Jesus is presented with all kinds of ideas about who people says he is, but he wants the disciples to state clearly who THEY say he is. Most people have several different answers to Jesus' first question, "Who do people say that I am?" The answers include Elijah, John the Baptist, and some of the prophets. But Jesus sharpens the question and moves from this more superficial way of knowing to the disciples own experiential or heart knowledge. He asks, "And you, who do YOU say that I am?"

I am reminded of the kinds of knowing found in last week's stories from Genesis with Adam and Eve in the Garden. As I told the third graders who attended a prayer service with us, the tree of knowledge of good and evil is not simply about knowing in our minds what is bad vs what is good. Instead the passage refers to a deeper, more intimate way of knowing good and evil, namely, deep within our selves. To "eat of this tree" is quite literally to take good and evil and the act of judging within ourselves. The way I illustrated this for 3rd graders was to ask how many of them knew what it felt like to stand on one foot for fifteen minutes. Several hands came part way up and then dropped down again. The kids knew they could imagine what it would be like, but they also saw clearly that only in doing it would they REALLY know in their muscles, memory, emotions, etc. (After the liturgy one of the adults present told me one little girl tried the whole time to stand on one foot!!)

I am also reminded of the conversation from last week between Eve and the serpent as the two of them theologize ABOUT God rather than speaking TO or WITH him. Two forms or levels of knowing, the first which is interesting and maybe even important for Eve, but which involves only a part of her being until she commits to the definition she has come to --- a definition which is not the same as God's self-revelation --- and establishes herself as estranged from God.

And finally I am reminded of my perpetual eremitical profession several years ago when I responded to the Bishop's question about what I desired in a statement which publicly claimed Jesus Christ as "Lord and Spouse" I had never used the term "Spouse" before, and never publicly! The question in Mark's Gospel, "Who do YOU say that I am?" was on my mind and heart. And at this moment, there was no call for my education in theology, no need for theologizing. Instead, I was being asked to bring my whole self before God and the assembly and ask the Church to accept this self gift in the name of Christ. Theologizing was over. Speculation had no place in this exchange. Wishfulness and indecisiveness was definitely out of line here. Instead it was time to claim that identity publicly which had been given privately many years earlier. This was my moment to answer Jesus' question, "Who do you say that I am?" from the knowledge I carried in my heart; I was actually surprised, and perhaps a little scared by my response.

There are all kinds of ways to avoid a genuine response to Jesus' question. Rote answers carved from creeds and catechesis are the most common. Playing it safe and refusing to answer for fear of what others will think is another common one. I answered on that day of vows, ". . . Jesus who is my Lord and Spouse" but in another situation I might as easily have responded, "You are the one who called me "little one" and who tried to coax me to drink a glass of milk in the hospital all those years ago when I was so very frightened"; and I might have continued, "you have been my elder Brother present at every bedside ever since, revealing the steadfast compassionate love of God to me." There are many other ways to answer Jesus' question in my own life. I call him Christ, and Lord, and Brother, but the content of those terms, consistent as they are with Tradition, is always partly my very own. So should all such answers to Jesus' question be, I think.

Peter apparently answers the question Jesus asks, and does so in the terms of personal experience and trust required: "You are the Christ", but when Jesus begins to redefine what being God's anointed one means in terms of suffering and death, Peter rebukes him and belies the authenticity of his own confession. Once again Divine reality conflicts with human theologizing --- and once again theologizing is estranged from the human heart and the trusting knowledge of faith. Peter even takes Jesus aside to instruct him in the truth of what the term Christ REALLY means (certainly not suffering and ignominious death!)! And Jesus' criticism is devastating: "Get behind me Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do!" He might well have said, Get behind me pseudo-theologian! You are thinking like human beings do, but I need you to know me, and claim that knowledge in a different and more exhaustive way!

The challenge of this Gospel is the same as the challenge to Adam and Eve in the garden, viz, allow God to reveal himself on his own terms. Trust in that revelation. Live from it and for it. Spend some time answering Jesus' question for yourself. He knows who the Church says he is, and what textbooks in dogmatic theology claim and expound on, but who do YOU say that he is?

Followup Questions on Rule and Horarium

[[Dear Sister Laurel, is there a difference between a horarium and a plan of life? what is the relationship...? which came first... an horarium that grew into a Rule of Life or?]]

The basic answer is that a horarium is a daily schedule. A Rule of Life includes the horarium but also a lot more than that because it is the document which governs the way a hermit lives her life. That means that it includes things like a brief history and theology of the eremitical life, the vows and how they are understood and lived out in concrete ways, a reflection on the central elements of Canon 603 and how these are lived out, how the hermit maintains herself financially, a section on Sacraments and access to these, provisions for ongoing formation, retreat, spiritual direction, a brief theology of prayer and reference to the forms of prayer undertaken and when, the charism (gift quality) of eremitical life -- especially of the diocesan hermit, relation to the parish, diocese, Diocesan Bishop and delegate, and so forth.

While it is true that one follows a horarium (or various horaria) for some time before one writes (or is ready to write) a Rule, strictly speaking, the horarium does not grow out of the Rule nor the Rule out of the horarium. Instead, both grow out of the hermit's lived experience of and reflection on the life itself. When, after some experimentation, one finds a schedule that works for one, then that will go into the Rule one eventually writes. Exigencies of life can cause some changes to the daily schedule so this element of one's Rule tends to change more often than other elements of the Rule. I have found that most experienced hermits build in some room for flexibility and don't feel constrained to strictly follow a minute by minute schedule, but it does happen that beginners often construct a schedule that is more focused on filling up time and on treating the Gospel counsel to "pray always" as "always saying prayers" than as providing a basic structure by which they may live their lives with integrity and BE God's own prayer. (The alternate common beginner's stumbling block is to follow no horarium at all and to simply allow what happens during the day to dictate one's schedule.) Together these are sort of the Scylla and Charybdis one has to avoid in fixing one's horarium which charts a kind of daily course between these two.

Thanks for the questions! I hope this helps.

Life in Sonata Form, On Hermits, Horaria, and the Freedom of Limits

During the podcast I did for A Nun's Life recently, Sister Maxine noted that the way my day was divided, especially knowing I was a violinist, sounded a bit like movements in music. I agreed it did seem a bit like a sonata form, and I have had some time to think about this aspect of my horarium. Probably some of the impulse to do that was provided by a question Sister Julie asked about the structure of my day, my schedule or horarium, and what it provided besides the discipline per se. As I recall (for I have not yet had the courage to listen to the podcast!) my answer had something to do with not functioning well without the structure. But, of course, this is only a piece of the answer --- the tiny (and negative) tip of the real and far more positive truth. It was Sister Maxine's comment about movements that has helped me come to a bit greater clarity more generally on what my horarium as horarium provides --- and what such limits more generally really make possible.

Sonata Form and Creative Freedom

Generally (and very simplistically) sonata form is a classical form of music in three movements. The first movement (exposition) is dedicated to the basic themes of the rest of the piece. There is variation, exposition in various related keys, etc, but this is the movement where the basic musical thematic and harmonic material is presented. The second movement is also known as the development. Here the composer develops or explores the music laid out in the exposition. The material remains tied to the exposition but the exploration can be far ranging both thematically and harmonically and one may not be able to easily hear the relation of this material to that of the exposition. Sometimes it is a rhythmic motif that carries through in a recognizable way (think of the first four notes of Beethoven's fifth symphony. The "dot dot dot dash" rhythm is one basis of the development.) The third movement is one of recapitulation and it is here that the thematic and harmonic explorations, the tensions and conflicts which developed during the development movement, etc, are resolved.

There are all kind of limits and requirements intrinsic to the form but what remains true is that this form allows for tremendous freedom in exploring the thematic and harmonic possibilities of what may, by themselves, be very simple themes or motifs. At the same time it is not a question of "anything goes". There is coherence and consistency, not only because of the external structure per se, but because this structure allows for the space and time in which the original themes may be explored and developed musically while constraining the composer to do so in a way which maintains thematic and harmonic integrity as well as in a way which allows listeners to hear and appreciate that this is precisely what she is doing. We do not all have the skills, imagination, or vocation to compose and explore thematic material (music) in this way, but we can share in the experience because of the way a composer exercises these things. The constraints of sonata-allegro form, for instance, serve the freedom of the musician. They define limits in ways which challenge the imagination, require substantial musical knowledge and skill, and generally guide the composer to explore the limits of her own capabilities.

Horarium and Human Freedom

So too does the horarium of the hermit allow the hermit to explore the limits of her own capabilities. And this is the key to understanding the positive and more substantial truth of the reason I need a horarium. It is entirely true that I don't function well, and that my life goes off the rails pretty quickly without one. But what is also the case is that without the space and time its constraints provide, I fail to live my life. While I may do many things during the hours of days I am not following a horarium, I may well not actually be living the life I am called and covenanted to live. Doing things (even pious things!) and filling space with these is not necessarily the same as living one's life.

As I have noted before, a schedule is one piece of the constraints which create the "laboratory" -- or perhaps, better, the studio -- in which my life is composed, and especially, where God is given the space and time to work with and within me in special ways with my conscious cooperation. As we all know, it is possible to fill our lives with all kinds of activities. Much of the time they may well be significant activities which serve others, but even then, they may not be part of the life we are called or covenanted to live.

In a related way, then, the schedule reminds me of and calls me back to the priorities which mark my life. In a negative sense it reminds me, for instance, that I am not an apostolic religious, but also that I am not free to do whatever I want whenever I want. More positively it reminds me that if my life is to be the magnificat God wills it to be, the essential themes, rhythms, and harmonies that are fundamental to it must form a regular part of things. More specifically, my "sonata-form schedule" works because it allows a dedicated period from 4:00am to 12:00 noon or 1:00 pm for the very basic elements of a prayerful life. This is the foundational part of everything else that happens during a day. In the afternoons I "develop," or perhaps better, allow God to develop these fundamental elements during the activities of everyday life, work with clients, errands, study, occasional time with friends, etc, and in the evenings, there is a conscious return to the fundamental themes again with journaling, quiet prayer, a brief lectio, and Compline.

When "life" intervenes: a parishioner who needs to talk, illness, a doctor's appointment, an errand which requires depending on another for transportation when it is convenient for them, and so forth, the horarium allows me to interrupt or postpone the present "movement" and do what is genuinely needed. However, it also allows me to step back into the day at another point and move forward from there. More, it reminds me I must do this if I am not to altogether lose myself and the composition God seeks me to become. The horarium anchors all I do; it embodies values and activities which are the source of life for me, and continually summons me back to myself and to these sources. At the same time it allows flexibility precisely because it serves authenticity, charity, and those other values which are part of life in fullness. Once again, the horarium serves and promotes authentic freedom --- and that is all about helping empower me to be the person I am called to be.

A Little Bit of Lectio

I was reflecting about today's first reading. It is the part of the Genesis account where Eve is seduced to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, where (perhaps at her urging and perhaps not) Adam does the same thing, and where "their eyes are opened" as a result. Of course this opening of their eyes is a form of self-consciousness which is rooted in only a partial truth about themselves, namely, that they are naked before God and each other. But it is a self-consciousness which blinds them to the greater truth of who they are with and through God, namely, persons of infinite worth with the very breath of God sustaining them at every instant --- even in their sinfulness.

From here my reflections moved in the direction of humility. I came to think that what passes too often for genuine humility is precisely the partial truth occasioned by alienation from God and the resulting self-consciousness that blinds us to the whole truth. What passes for humility is often nothing more than a self-centered view of our "nakedness" but without the broader perspective granted us by our relationship to and with God and the incredible worth that affirms. Without this other piece of the picture, we know only our own unworthiness, our own poverty and incapacity --- and we will rightly come to despise ourselves. Of course Adam and Eve fail at humility in other ways. They grasp at a knowledge they are not made for, they fail to trust a God who has given them no reason to fail in this, and they hide from him taking refuge in shrubbery and stuck-on fig leaves! But most fundamentally in all of this, I think, they only look at (or accept) part of the truth of who they are in relation to God and, for that very reason, fail in humility.

But my reflections also went in another direction (though I am pretty sure they link up at some point; it is just that my lectio has not gotten me to that point yet!). I was thinking about something Walter Brueggemann said about the hugely "over-interpreted" serpent in this narrative, namely, that he was not a symbol of Satan or evil, but a neutral character used to move the story along. This led me to think of the serpent as an externalization of what Eve comes to think in her heart --- a debate she has with herself, really: that God has somehow not told them the truth, that she knows what God is really like, that she knows what is best for her own life and is capable of determining what is good and what is not without reference to God!

Part of this sense that the serpent is the externalization of Eve's own thought processes were occasioned by something else Brueggemann said, viz, that the speech made by the serpent, indeed the whole conversation, is a matter of "theologizing" and that the serpent is the first "working theologian"!!! (I admit, I found this point really funny --- but because it was strikingly "right." It reminded me of the fear I felt regarding presuming to speak about God with any authority early in my years of studying theology. Somehow, doing "theology" seemed to be oxymoronic to me. Arrogant perhaps, probably presumptuous, and at least awfully risky. It is a fear which has never completely left me, and I mainly know it now as a kind of awe that I am (or might be!) a theologian.) Perhaps I need to recover some of that original "fear"! (Ah, can you sense these directions in my lectio beginning to link up?) At the same time then, it recalled the stress in Eastern Christianity on theology as an act of prayer, or at the very least, something which is never to be divorced from prayer.

But in today's reading, that is exactly what happens. As Brueggemann notes, no one is speaking to or with God in this section. They are speaking about him, and in doing so they even distort (or lie to themselves about) what they were told WHILE they were speaking with him and he them. How often this happens in our own lives! Whether we are professional or academic theologians or the armchair variety, how very often we speak about a God we really don't know or allow to know us all that well! How often our speech about God, our theologizing, has nothing whatsoever to do with prayer! It neither stems from prayer, adverts to prayer in gratitude or supplication, nor moves us to return to prayer! And how often it distorts, subtly or otherwise, the truth about God which he himself has revealed to us. Much of our religion is built upon such distortions!!

It occurred to me that if we were speaking without reticence about science, or economics, or child-rearing, or any number of other things without first hand knowledge OF the thing being talked about, people would laugh us out of the room. And rightly so! Consider how truly stupid we would be and seem if we spoke about a person as though we knew them first hand and were instead required to confess to listeners that we had never actually met this person face to face! And yet, how often we characterize people, speak of their motives, etc without ever having met them! Why is it that with theology we don't get uneasy in attempting to speak about God and the other ultimately important dimensions of life which are tied to faith in him apart from a first-hand knowledge of God??? (Here I am thinking of suffering, death, illness, evil, and more --- and about all the really silly and even offensive things people say about them and about God when they wax on about such things.) Of course, it is true that the truly first rate theologians never lose perspective like this (or not for long!!) and that their theology is a function of their prayer lives. But for most of us, we rarely talk to or with God before we presume to talk about him, and as a result our theologizing is as blind, self-centered, and distorted as in today's first reading.

Clearly my own lectio with this text is not finished --- and may not be for some time. It is a perfect text for extended lectio. It is a rich vein of gold and I need to spend more time mining it. More, it is a deep and extensive word addressed to me and I need to spend more time listening and responding to it in prayer. The freedom to go where the text and the Holy Spirit leads is a part of lectio we should not be afraid of --- even if that involves ways of seeing characters, etc that are not quite the way we have been catechized!!

_________________________________________________________
Note: I am thinking about making "A Little Bit of Lectio" a regular part of this blog. Ordinarily reflections I put up have a more "finished" character, but it seems to me this approach might be more helpful to some --- and of course, may be helpful to me as well! If you have an opinion, please email me.

On Widowhood and Silence

[[Sr. Laurel - I was unable to be there for the whole of the interview you did with Sisters Julie and Maxine recently, but I have now obtained the recording from iTunes. I have a question which I would have liked to have asked at the time. Before you took your vows with your Bishop, was there a period of formation for you? Was it formal or informal? Was there anything that paralleled the temporary vows that other religious take during their first years in a religious order?

I am a widow and I'm too old for a formal religious vocation (I'm 73), but I have been looking for whatever my life should be for the time I have left. I was so impressed with all you said and with your blog which I've read rather extensively since the interview. I know I am not a hermit, but I am trying to learn to live creatively and with integrity in the unfamiliar quiet of my new single life. I would like to think that someday I could really live in solitude with God without trying to escape the silence. Anyhow, thanks so much for sharing with us of the Nuns Life community! It was a blessing to listen!]]

Hi there,
Many thanks for your comments! I am glad you were able to join us, and also grateful for your questions.

While Canon 603 does not specify either formation or temporary vows, it is usual to require both because both are ordinarily necessary. (In particular exceptional cases, especially where someone has been vowed and also lived as a hermit for some time, a diocese may decide it is prudent to forego temporary profession, but this is rare, and also generally risky for all involved.) When dioceses require temporary vows of someone (the normal pattern), they usually do so for a period of from three to five years. Some use a period of two years, but none less than this as far as I know. Dioceses could and do also extend the period of temporary vows, of course, because this period is still one of discernment for all involved.

Formation is a tricky question. As I have written here before, no diocese "forms" their hermits. They expect them to find ways to get this formation on their own. Often they expect the person to have this formation before they contact the chancery with their petition to become a diocesan hermit. They may suggest resources to a candidate if they have and know of them, but usually that is all. Generally diocesan personnel have neither the time nor the expertise to undertake the formation of a hermit --- nor is it really their "job"! Also, sometimes there is the basic wisdom of the desert at play in their thinking: "remain in your cell and your cell will teach you everything." Dioceses expect hermits to "learn" their "hermiting" and be formed by living in solitude and coming to know the silence of solitude. However, at the same time, they require a diocesan hermit to have some theology, knowledge of the vocation and its history, to understand and be prepared for making and living the vows, etc. So, I would have to say formation is generally informal but also an imperative which is both demanding and mainly rooted in dependence on the initiative of the one called to solitude.

There are some attempts to help with this. Network of Diocesan Hermits, for instance, though fledgling still, provides some mentoring for verified candidates for diocesan hermit profession. This can help fill the formation gap though especially here the initiative and impetus falls on the candidate's shoulders. Online courses are available on monastic life, history, and theology for very little money. More important is probably the work one does with a Spiritual Director, and I would encourage you to find someone for ongoing SD who can assist you in making the transition you described, and just generally developing your spiritual life (something we all need to do) within the new context of widowhood.

One vocation that is not canonical (yet), but has been mentioned by Pope John Paul II and others is that of consecrated widow. I would suggest you look into this for yourself as well (because you may decide you are not a lay hermit or called to be such). If, after considering this and learning what you can about it, you decide this might be a way to go, you can get an appointment with someone in vocations at your chancery, or (perhaps) with your Bishop to discuss options. It may be that he would be open to exploring this vocation with you. (Because of Canon 605 Bishops are obliged to be open to new forms of consecrated life; this could be one of those.) What you are dealing with is what widows all over the world deal with and finding a way to explore the meaning of your life as widow would be very helpful to many. There is a blog that has stuff about this vocation --- I think by a Cistercian nun, but I may be wrong about that. I will send you the link if I can locate the blog and you can contact the author. Anyway, definitely do some research online about it and see if it captures your imagination!

The problem of learning to live with and within silence is difficult for many people --- maybe even most. One thing you might consider doing is journaling when things get tough and the urge strikes to turn on the TV, run out shopping, call someone on the phone --- all to merely fill or distract from the silence. Another thing you might try is to make a cup of tea or coffee, and simply sit in the silence being attentive to what is actually going on all around AND WITHIN you. Let yourself smell the drink, feel the warmth, taste it, etc and while doing this call upon God to be with you and let the silence work on you in a different way. It will happen because you are choosing to allow it instead of fighting it. You might set up a table somewhere where you can work on a jigsaw puzzle (or a regular space for some other hobby you enjoy and can turn to) when things get difficult or cabin fever hits, but where you can attend to the silence in a new way as well.

At this point in your life it may well be that silence is a symbol only of physical solitude, and so too, of absence and emptiness, but in time, and with practice, it can become one of presence and fullness. If you choose any of these (or other) tactics they need to be part of a strategy as well as a time where and when you also consciously turn to God --- not to change things in some abrupt way, but simply because he is there and wants to share what is happening with you. Allow him this space and time and do it while you are especially attentive to the pain, loss, and other sensations you are experiencing. Lengthen these periods as you are able. None of this is easy, but over time such praxis will change the character of the silence you know now and help you to live with and within it. You may well even come to live from it as you discover what Canon 603 calls "the silence of solitude" and Eastern Christianity refers to as hesychasm!

On Writing a Rule of Life: Protecting the Eremitical Vocation Itself

[[Dear Sister, You wrote that a Rule of life protects and nurtures the eremitical vocation itself and not only the individual hermit's vocation. It seems hard enough to write one's own Rule of life, much less a Rule that does this as well. Doesn't this make the project of writing a Rule less personal and less possible? I thought the hermit life was one of freedom. Why is all this necessary? It sounds like more of the "increased institutionalization" one person complained about!]]

Well, I see it as a necessary approach because it is all a piece of the diocesan hermit's vocation being a public and ecclesial vocation lived specifically FOR others. The idea here is that Canon 603 vocations represent eremitical life which is consciously lived in the heart (and name) of the Church and especially, in a way which reflects the Church's own eremitical tradition, life and needs, as well as those of the world in general. In other words, diocesan eremitism is a gift to the Church and the world which perpetuates in its own way the eremitical tradition and the hermit is responsible for appreciating that in a way which lets her live it out with integrity.

I don't know that doing this makes a Rule or Plan of Life harder to write. In some ways I think it makes doing so easier, but of course it is also more demanding than simply writing up a version of how one lives one's life, and how one proposes to continue doing so. It is easier, however, because it gives one a perspective from which to view one's own life, evaluate it, grow in it, make informed choices as to changes one needs (or changes one must not make!), etc. When one considers that one's Rule is an instance of a much greater reality than one's own individual way of living and writes it to reflect this, the Rule serves one better as well. One can sense this when one constructs such a Rule and for that reason the writing of it is both more challenging and also more exciting. It is a way of accepting that one's life is of greater moment than one might have guessed otherwise, and so, writing a Rule from this perspective assists one in reflecting on and spelling out what is essential and letting go of that which is not. Instead, then, of writing a Rule which is a morass of minutiae, one sketches in broader strokes. Yes, one includes necessary detail, but because one really has the big picture, one need not agonize over relative trivialities in writing the Rule.

What I am trying to say is that if one truly knows something of the nature and history of eremitical life, appreciates it as a living tradition, and realizes that one's own life and Rule represent a small but real piece of that tradition's present and future, one will likely also be less inclined to be overly concerned with writing a Rule which mimics a more superficial notion of what a hermit SHOULD do and be in every detail, or which cannot distinguish the essential from the merely culturally conditioned and inessential. Of course one will write a Rule which reflects the essentials of such a life and is in continuity with the tradition, but one will also adapt these essentials to the needs and possibilities of the modern Church and world.

This, I think, allows the Rule to be quite personal without being idiosyncratic. It is another aspect of balancing the essential elements of eremitical life with one's own individual way of living these out. It is an approach which allows for a perspective which is broader, and thus more helpful to others and to oneself, than a narrow navel-gazing approach. With regard to oneself, this kind of Rule will be more inspiring and foster consciousness of the significance of the vocation. It will be a livable Rule which one grows with. It is true that what I have called necessary will not allow one to write a Rule without living the life for some time while reflecting on it and the gift it is to church and world, but if one has done that then I have personally found that this approach makes writing the Rule more possible not less.

Regarding the freedom of a hermit, as I have written before, I think it is important that we define freedom in the Christian sense, namely, as the power to become and be the persons we are called to be. It is the power to love --- wholly, authentically, and selflessly --- to love God, others, and oneself with one's whole being. This kind of freedom is not idiosyncratic and not individualistic even while it allows for individual expression and response to the movement of the Holy Spirit.

Why Do We Need Contemplative Convents if we are all called to be contemplatives. . .?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I often wonder why we need Contemplative convents when God is supposed to want each and every soul to be a contemplative and wants them all for Himself. On the other hand, if being a contemplative and giving God your all, just as He wishes, how can you be like this plus be married and committed to someone
at the same time...! I can't get my head round the Secular Carmelite thing. To me, if one experiences the Presence of God...how can they turn round and commit themselves to another!? Many thanks,]]

My basic answer is that while all may be called to some expression of an essentially contemplative life (a position which can easily be misunderstood, by the way) --- even in their great activity, most are not called to a life dedicated to contemplation and all that requires. Some are exemplars of a dedicated contemplative life, while others exemplify contemplative prayer and contemplative (attentive, mindful) living in the midst of the world. It is similar to the idea that every person is ultimately solitary and called to some degree of authentic solitude, but not every person is called to be a hermit.

Likewise, every person is meant to nurture and foster family and the future of the species, but not every person is called to be a mother or a father in the ordinary sense, for instance. Mothers and Fathers inspire all of us to be nurturing and open to bringing forth new life, despite the sacrifices involved. and they do so with a special vividness and, better perhaps, concreteness. Hermits inspire us to give solitude the place it requires so that human poverty can be transfigured by divine grace in the same way. They each remind us of one dimension or aspect of a fully human life. We could multiply images: Contemplatives remind us that we are meant for union with God and called to become prayer ourselves. Consecrated celibates remind us we are ALL made for an eschatological love which transcends all historically conditioned forms of love. Married people remind us of the holiness of sexual love and the important fact that we all bring one another to God and to completion in him -- though marriage is a privileged way of achieving that. Each focuses our attention on an aspect of truly human life, the nature of human love, etc. Each provides a different lens through which we can see aspects of a mystery far too large to get our minds around otherwise. We need these individual and dedicated examples and exemplars, not least, because we do dwell in space and time, and do not see clearly without them. More, we are not inspired without them.

Another reason, of course, is that as human beings living within the limits of space and time (history), we each must take a specific path to wholeness at a given moment. We simply cannot take all paths. For instance, there is no way I can be both hermit and apostolic religious at the same time, no way I can be consecrated celibate and participate in married or sexual love simultaneously, etc. My own call to wholeness and holiness involves a life given to God in a specific way because historical existence requires it. It is not better than other ways, but it is better for me; other paths, though they could well serve my own growth in authentic humanity, would not serve it as well. For me, for instance, diocesan eremitical life is the context which allows the WHOLE of my historical existence with all its limitations and gifts to make sense and serve others. Life in a Cistercian (or Camaldolese!) monastery, for instance, might function similarly for me, but I don't believe it would do so as well. Apostolic Religious life certainly does not do so despite the fact that it inspires me to be true to the "for (and with) others" nature of the Christian vocation.

Your second question is excellent. The answer is a paradox isn't it? The simple truth is we truly give our lives fully to God ONLY to the extent we also give it to those he loves. As noted above, one expression of part of this truth is marriage. Here two people give themselves to one another body and soul precisely so they may come to God together. In their love for each other they discover the reality of divine life/love. This is the most common or usual way persons come to know God's exhaustive love and to commit themselves to it. But your question comes at things from another direction, namely from a more apparently unmediated experience of this love which then leads to life commitment to another. I think your question is really how can one not make this love of God exclusive, true? But it is completely understandable that one's relationship with God spills over into relationships with others, that this love inspires and empowers us to love others and lead them to share in it.

This is true in lives of every contemplative and even every true hermit I know. It is true in the case of Consecrated Virgins whose relationship with Christ is explicitly spousal. It is true of those Apostolic Religious I know whose relationships with God-in-Christ are described as nuptial or spousal (though also in those whose relationships are not of, course). In fact, it is as prayer lives deepen and relationships with God mature that one is called to share with others. Of course, this does not mean these persons give themselves in marriage to another, but, together with our understanding of the Sacrament of marriage, it suggests that for many people, such a dedicated sharing of lives makes tremendous, even ultimate sense. That may not be true of your vocation or my own, but it is true for these people and witnesses to the mysterious nature of Divine Love and the way we share in it. Because God is the ground of all existence, and because we come to know and love others truly only as we come to know them in and of this ground (that is, in and of God), this leads to the paradox I mentioned earlier: we give our lives to God ONLY to the extent we also give it to those he loves.

Let me add one thing which may further illustrate this paradox. It is based on a prayer experience I once had. In that experience I had the sense that I had God's entire and exclusive attention and love. At the same time, however, I had the sense of assurance that he was caring for everyone else in the very same way, that ALL was well, nothing and no one was being neglected or loved less than I. How is this possible? It is divine love after all, and therefore a very great mystery. What I am suggesting is that we are called to love in the same way. We are invited to give ourselves completely to God, to love him exclusively AND we are called to love others exhaustively as well. This is the paradox and challenge of contemplative life.

For some, this love will involve marriage precisely because these persons experience the presence of God in this way, not in spite of their experience of his presence. For some it will mean apostolic religious life, for some others contemplative religious life, and for others of us, it will even mean eremitical or solitary life, for instance, but the sense that these lives are about loving God AND others exhaustively at the same time does not change --- only the way this is expressed. I suspect that once God is ALL in ALL and we are part of that new heaven and new earth Paul talks about, we will understand more clearly how it is that union with God means a total gift of self to others as well. For now all I can affirm is that God's "wanting us all for himself" is a different kind of exclusiveness than we are used to in merely human terms. As I understand it, he has us all to himself WHEN we also love others --- even when that love is expressed in eremitical life or in solitary contemplative prayer and time alone with God. In other words, it is not exclusive in a competitive way, but insofar as it includes others.

I hope this helps some. If I have been unclear or raised new questions, please get back to me!

Karl Rahner and Everyday Mysticism

[[Sister Laurel, your last post is reminiscent of the mysticism of Karl Rahner, true?]]

Yes, it is indeed. I am probably at least partly indebted to Rahner (and to Jesuits more generally) for my understanding of the world and spirituality --- and strongly so to Paul Tillich as well. Rahner is famous for having made the comment that unless all Christians became mystics, there would be no Christianity. However, Rahner made those comments within the context of what has been called an "everyday mysticism" --- a mysticism which recognized the mystery of God at the heart of everyday reality. What he wanted, and what he saw as imperative, was a mysticism in which Christians discovered the hidden presence of God, the deep and holy ground and depth in and of all created existence.  (Of course I must note that finding the presence of God in ordinary life is also a profoundly Benedictine trait and I am clearly Camaldolese Benedictine in this way as well.)

This form of mysticism issues in a "sober" spirituality "found in courageous perseverance in silent faith, trust, love, and unselfish service, despite life's seeming emptiness." (Egan, Karl Rahner) It also issues in experiences of joy at the presence of God in the most mundane circumstances of life as well as in the more extraordinary or "learned" mysticism of the saint. All of these are specifications of the orientation to God (the ground of being and mystery) which is partly constitutive of every human being. With and in Jesus Christ, we come to celebrate life and its inherent goodness and sanctity. More, we understand creation as sacramental and recognize the myriad ways it reveals and mediates God's presence and Word to us every day. This essential tearing or sundering of the barrier (veil) between the sacred and profane, the mystical and the temporal, this recognition and fostering of the sacramental character of all creation, even the most apparently mundane, is part of the vocation of every Christian and the core of any authentic mysticism. We come to share in this vocation by accepting our place in Jesus' life, death, resurrection, and ascension --- that is, by participating in the Christ Event in which the barrier was sundered and reconciliation achieved between God and his creation. Appreciation of all of this was the reason Rahner spoke somewhat hyperbolically of the imperative that every Christian become a mystic lest there be no Christianity.

Though Rahner affirms these as well, his theology does not completely trust versions of mysticism which stress extraordinary phenomenon, ecstasies, and the like. He does not like the idea of infused contemplation which seems interventionist and possibly elitist. Instead he prefers the idea that some persons, when the experiences are not merely auto-suggestive or psychologically aberrant, learn to allow the Holy Spirit's communications with greater intensity and ease than others do; hence the phrase above, "learned" mysticism or contemplation. But this mysticism is not different in kind from the everyday mysticism he espouses. It is merely different in intensity and clarity and remains rooted in the same ground of mystery which is at the core of all mysticism. (I should note that to the extent these are genuine, they will foster the same reverence and love for others and all of God's creation any experience of or inspiration by God empowers.)

There are several books available for those wanting to understand Rahner's everyday mysticism better. These include, Everyday Faith (Rahner), Karl Rahner, Mystic of Everyday Life by Egan, The Mystical Way in Everyday Life (Rahner). More technical articles are available in Sacramentum Mundi and Theological Investigations. A World of Grace by O'Donovan is also helpful. I suspect you have read several of these already but others may find them of assistance. I would recommend Egan's book though as a place to begin and supplement that with The Mystical Way in Everyday Life because the latter supplies prayers, etc which will illustrate what Egan writes about at greater length.

Additionally, people may be interested in Jesuit spirituality more generally, for everyday mysticism is a pillar of this spirituality and Rahner was a key proponent. James Martin's recent book, The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life, would be a great place to start!

Podcasts, Dialogue, Affirmation of the Mystery at the Heart of the World and Contemplative Life

[[Dear Sister, thank you for doing the podcast on A Nun's Life. It was really interesting and surprising in some ways. I had not realized that hermit life was "communal" at its very heart, and the whole idea of chronic illness as vocation was new to me. I also had not realized that hermits could do podcasts!!! I guess I did have the idea that hermits still live in the [modern] equivalent of caves. I wonder if you aren't concerned that people will think doing the podcast conflicts with the eremitical vocation or that you are giving scandal? Also, do other hermits agree with your description of the life as fundamentally communal or "dialogical"?]] (Redacted)

Good questions, and thanks very much for your comments. The experience of doing the podcast was an excellent one for me personally: exhilarating, challenging, a bit taxing physically and mentally, encouraging and inspiring (especially given the responses on chronic illness as vocation!), and just generally good fun! One thing I was especially grateful I was not aware of until afterward, however, was the number of people who tuned in to listen or participated from the chat room. There were almost 450 people participating in one way and another during the hour and I was terrified enough as we began the program!! I came away with tremendous respect for what Sisters Julie and Maxine are doing and how hard they work at it, as well as greater appreciation for their congregation's support for this ministry. As far as I can see, A Nun's Life is of tremendous benefit to the Church and to vocations of all sorts, so the chance to participate in it in some way was very cool --- and a real honor.

I think if I were doing podcasts every week (or every month, for instance) people would have a reason to complain or question. But this was an unusual event and, I sincerely hope, useful in serving the eremitical vocation and also those with chronic illness (or who are otherwise marginalized) who might never consider that their own illness (etc) can be the medium through which the Gospel can be proclaimed to the world with a clarity and concreteness few can match. However, I am not concerned so much with what others think so long as they are clear that this is one of those forms of ministry which result from the silence of solitude and lead back to it as well. It is exceptional but consistent with both the Canon that governs my life, the Rule I live by, as well as the Camaldolese Benedictine charism. It is also consistent with expressions of the eremitical and anchoritic life as found and embodied throughout history. Hermits and anchorites have always been sought out for the wisdom their very marginality witnesses to and helps foster.

Of course, as a hermit, it is important that my own life be defined not primarily by these exceptional instances, but by the essential elements stated in Canon 603: the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, stricter separation from the world (that which is resistant to Christ and includes the world which lives in one's own heart--- those various soils which stifle or resulting flora which choke the Word of God within and without us!). Even so another essential element of consecrated eremitical life (and any eremitical life, I think!) is that it is lived for the salvation of the world. One embraces this responsibility in a number of ways --- not least in living stricter separation, the silence of solitude and assiduous prayer and penance in the heart of the church so that one's life serves as a kind of leaven and witness to a dimension of mystery at the heart of everything --- but also, in opening up the fruit of these elements to others.

You may have read blog posts that argue a kind of mutually exclusive dichotomy between the temporal Catholic World and the Mystical Catholic World. These posts have argued that a hermit must choose either the temporal OR the mystical Catholic Worlds. I have argued that this stance is theological and spiritual nonsense. The reason I have objected is because Christ, undoubtedly a mystic whose entire life was motivated by the reality of his union with God, was also deeply committed to the temporal world. In fact he could not be a mystic without such a commitment --- and vice versa as well! Heaven (life wholly in union with God) and earth are not supposed to be antithetical realities. Christ came to reconcile them and to implicate heaven within the earthly so that it completely interpenetrates the world of space and time. As I have written before, the result will be what Paul refers to as "A new heaven and earth" where "God is all in all". What mystics affirm is the dimension of mystery which grounds and is meant to permeate all of the temporal world. The affirmation is made for the sake of God's own life and the world of space and time --- God's good creation --- not in rejection of either of these.

Something similar is true of the hermit life, but with an accent on solitude and the dynamic of human poverty and divine grace which defines it. We are not to despise or reject the temporal world in the name of some separate and antithetical mystical world. Instead we commit ourselves to the redemption of all of that reality in God from the perspective of our solitude. Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam, writes: " The hermit does not meet eternity in the way gnostics are tempted to meet it. He does not reject what is temporal. He has his share of eternity by raising all earthly things up to their ultimate fullness by virtue of Christ's redemptive love."

In a section entitled, "Living in Dialogue" Wencel also notes, "The seclusion and solitude that constitute the eremitic life do not aim at negating the fundamental dynamism of human existence, with its entering into dialogue and relationships. On the contrary, eremitic isolation and solitude form the basis of that dynamism. . . . As mentioned before, the hermit's solitude can never be a sign of withdrawal and isolation from the world [used in a different sense than the term "world" in Canon 603] and its affairs. The hermit, since he wants to serve other people, must arrive at a profound understanding of his own nature and his relation to God. That is why his solitude is not at all a barrier, but it is rather an element that encourages openness towards others. . . .His solitude is not therefore a lifeless emptiness . . . it is related to those spheres of human personality that can exist only if they are open to meet God and the world in love." (The Eremitic Life, Encountering God in Silence and Solitude, Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam)

All of this is an expansion of, or variation on, one of the first things I mentioned on the podcast, namely we are each grounded in God and as we grow in union with God, so too do we grow in communion with all else that is grounded in him, all that he holds as precious. Hermits and other contemplatives (and certainly all genuine mystics) know this truth intimately.

A Nun's Life Podcast

Readers may be interested in a podcast I am doing tomorrow with Sisters Julie and Maxine, IHM of A Nun's Life Ministry. We are going to talk about the life of the diocesan hermit and explore some of the ways this life is reflects everyday faith and Christian living, impacts upon, or speaks to these.

The information on the podcast is as follows: On Air: February 3, 2011, from 7 to 8 p.m. Central Time.

Where: www.aNunsLife.org/LIVE (The podcast is under the heading, "In Good Faith")

Details: The broadcast is free and open to the public. You can tune in from any place you have internet access. We also have a chat room for you to use during the broadcast in order to connect with one another and with us.

If new to A Nun’s Life webcasts, a webcast is like tuning into a radio program, but instead of broadcasting it on the airwaves, we broadcast it on our website. All you have to do is visit our website and make sure the volume on your computer is up. The format of this webcast is similar to a webinar where you can ask questions and interact with us and with our guest by using the chat room.

"And When they Saw Him they Begged Him to. . ." (Adapted)

I have to say that tomorrow's Gospel always suprises and delights me. It is first the story of Jesus' sending the demons which possess a man into a nearby herd of swine thus freeing the man from the bondage to brokennness and inhumanity which marks and mars his life; secondly, it is the story of what happens when he approaches the nearby town (Gadara) whose residents have heard of what he has done. Despite knowing how the story goes, I admit to being surprised every time I hear that Jesus is being begged to leave the district and its residents without troubling them further.

Now granted, Jesus just destroyed an entire herd of swine, and they must have been someone's livelihood --- perhaps many people's (and presuming Jesus was approaching Jews, it is a livelihood which contravened the Law as well). Some unhappiness with this would have been understandable. More, Jesus has healed a man whose condition had made travel along a certain route unsafe, so one would expect a mixed response to that -- this man will now need to be genuinely accommodated in some real sense --- not simply treated as a wild animal or alien of some sort who can be chained or otherwise held apart from the community. So, even though there was the recovery of the region and freedom from the man's violence, I begin to have a sense why Jesus was not welcomed here. But I admit to still hearing in the back of my mind cheers of welcome, voices beseeching Jesus to come and change lives, a positive and welcoming response like that in fiction stories where the conquering hero comes back from slaying the dragon, or like the narrative in the New Testament where Jesus is welcomed as King with waving palm branches and cries of Hosanna --- temporary as that moment was! In a way, perhaps in the "back of my mind" I want a costless or "cheap" grace, a "good news" fit for escapist fiction or an incredibly naive reading of the NT --- but not for the real world or for a Gospel whose heart is the cross. Am I really much different than most of us in this?

But of course the Gospel is good news in a much more realistic, paradoxical, and problematical way and tomorrow's pericope from Mark highlights this for us. Jesus reveals himself to be a man of extraordinary, even divine authority --- a man with authority over nature, illness, the hearts of men and women, and now over demons. He makes whole and holy, feeds the hungry on a profound and lasting level, frees from every kind of dehumanizing bondage, and provides true meaning and dignity for those lost and bereft. He is the Son of the Most High God (a title Mark has on the lips of the demons in tomorrow's story)--- very good news indeed --- but he acts with an authority which is genuinely awesome and which turns the everyday world of politics, religion, simple ordinariness, and comfortable respectability on their heads. The Garasenes in tomorrow's Gospel see this clearly and they are unprepared for it. Far from misunderstanding Jesus and refusing to welcome him on those grounds they understand precisely who Jesus is and want no part of him --- just as the Scribes and Pharisees understand him all-too-well and reject him. Far better to simply ask Jesus to leave the district than to have to come to terms with who he is and what that truly challenges and calls forth in and from them! How familiar this pattern is for us!

One of the current complaints by some traditionalists is that Vatican II gave us a God of love (they frequently spell the word "luv" to denote their disparagement of it) and lost the God who inspires fear, etc. They may well be correct that there has been some "domestication" of God and his Christ in popular piety --- but then this is not because of Vatican II; it is a continual temptation and sin besetting the Church. Afterall, how many of us when faced with the daily prospect of renewed faith recognize that acceptance of Jesus' authority -- expressed as an unconditional love which is stronger than death -- will turn our world upside down and call us to a radical way of living and loving which involves renunciation, self-sacrifice, and commitment to a Kingdom that is NOT of this world and often is at distinct odds with it? The equivalent of a herd of swine or the accommodation of the mentally ill is the least it will cost us --- precisely because it is unconditional. How many of us choose not so much to be loved -- with all that implies for growth, maturity and responsibility -- but instead (at least with some part of ourselves) would prefer to be coddled and cajoled? The same is true with regard to choosing to love. How many of us choose not so much to love as Christ, but limit our giving to relatively painless charities which both keep the needy at arm's length and salves our consciences in one relatively undemanding motion? In other words, how many of us buy into (and construct our lives around) a religion which is at least as much OF this world as it is IN it?

So yes, tomorrow's Gospel both surprises and delights me. It does both because of its honesty and because it is genuinely good news, rooted in the awesome authority of the Christ who loves without condition but not without challenge, empowerment, and commission. Such a Christ will never be really popular, I think. Many of our churches and cities are far more like Gadara than not --- though perhaps not as openly. The authority of Jesus over illness, fear, meaninglessness, and the demons that beset each and all of us as well as our society and world is an awesome and demanding reality; unfortunately, our hearts are more often ambivalent, ambiguous, and resistant than pure, single, and open in its regard. I suspect that domestication of our faith is something most of us are guilty of every day of our lives. With that and Mark's Gospel in mind, let us summon up the courage to beg Jesus to enter into our towns, homes, churches, and hearts, and remain with us; let us give him free access to move within and change our world as he wills! That is my own prayer in light of this Gospel passage.

St Anthony, Abbot

Lots of hermits in the calendar these days (well, relatively so!). Today we would ordinarily celebrate the Feast of St Anthony of Egypt (251-356 -- no, no typos in that date), one of the best known hermit Saints -- although we mainly remembered Martin Luther King this year. 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.

There is a good story about Anthony which relates to some of the readings which come up this week, most notably Friday's reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (8:6-13). This text reminds us of the new covenant and the shift from an approach to morality that is rooted in observance of the law as a sign of observing the covenant to one where the person embodies the covenant in their very selves with the covenant written on their minds and hearts. Hebrews notes that when the new covenant is established in this way, we will no longer need to teach one another saying, "Know the Lord," because all will know God in the depths of their hearts --- and, implicitly, be able to recognize him in the lives of each of us.

Once upon a time Anthony was visited by some Greek philosophers or wise men. They had heard stories about Anthony and the way he comforted people with his words. They were anticipating some kind of wisdom they could be convinced of and take away with them --- a new possession of sorts. The "container" for these comforting bits of wisdom, they also thought, were words and ideas, arguments they could add to an already notable armament of arguments and human wisdom. It seems that these men wanted to cull from Anthony's life what they considered admirable. The rest, however, the hermit or monastic life, the asceticism, the "foolishness" of following Christ exhaustively in material as well as spiritual poverty and obedience they rejected as the foolishness they considered it to be --- the foolishness Paul himself speaks of when he measures the scandal of a Crucified Christ against the wisdom of the "Greeks".

Anthony asked these men why they came to him, someone dressed in animal skins, and living a subsistence life of faith in the desert as a disciple of the crucified Christ. They reassured him that they thought he was a wise man. Anthony realized what these men wanted from him and refused to play their game. His challenge was clear and cut to the heart of the matter: If you truly believe I am a wise man, then live as I live. Become what I have become in Christ, for I am a Christian. This is open to you, but it is not the way of human wisdom, not even the way of external observance to Divine law. The philosophers left, no new lessons to teach others, no wisdom to add to their armament of human wisdom, no new arguments or consoling words they can pull out of their collection of platitudes and aphorisms. Despite superficial differences, the choice Anthony gave them was the same one Christ gave the rich young man, and the same one Hebrews 8:6-13 presents us with, namely, to leave the old way of living behind, the way of external legal observance, possessions, human wisdom and achievement and become a new creation in Christ from the heart outward. Not all of us are called to be hermits, but we are all called to emulate Anthony in this matter.


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.

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

Writing a Rule of Life, More Questions

Dear Sister, what does a diocese expect in an eremitical Rule of Life? How brief can it be, and how individual?

This is a great set of questions. When one reads about Rules of Life in Raven's Bread, a newsletter for hermits, or in the Fredette's associated book on contemporary eremitical life, for instance, one gets the impression that a Rule of Life can be as brief as several paragraphs (or even less), or relatively lengthy. When one looks at historical examples, for instance St Francis' Rule for hermits or the VERY brief "Brief Rule" of St Romuald, one gets the same idea regarding brevity. However, canonists and dioceses do have certain legitimate expectations of a diocesan hermit's Rule of life --- certain things it should cover in order to truly 1) reflect the nature and quality of the vocation in front of the diocese, and 2) govern and inspire an authentic eremitical life. It should be remembered that diocesan hermits' Rules or Plans of Life are approved with a "Bishop's Declaration of Approval" and become legally (canonically) binding on the hermit on the day of profession. They become quasi public documents which are representative of the solitary eremitical life as the Church understands and validates it. Thus, they should not only cover the essentials of the life, but serve to inspire and guide the hermit in living it with integrity as well as creativity and legitimate flexibility. They may also do the same for others who may draw on them for insight.

There is a challenge then in making the Rule sufficiently general and also personal enough to accommodate the various ways the Holy Spirit calls us to live our lives. Still, the first thing the candidate for profession must remember is that this is a Rule for eremitical life lived under Canon 603, and it must therefore address all the requirements of the Canon. These specify a publicly vowed life of stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance, lived according to a Rule approved by and under the supervision of one's Bishop all for the salvation of the world and the glory and praise of God. Consider how many elements are involved here, and how profound and integral the vision of life it describes. Consider the elements which are not specifically mentioned --- not least the charism of the diocesan hermit and how this eremitical life is a gift to Church and world! A hermit's Rule must address all these elements and more.

So, what specifically should the solitary hermit's Rule cover? (Please note these are not listed in any particular order.) 1) the elements of the Canon itself (including definitions of significant terms) and how these are lived out in this person's life (prayer, silence of solitude, penance, stricter separation from the world, Scripture, lectio, etc), 2) a brief history and theology of eremitical life, its place in the church and its importance for the world, especially at this point in the Church and World's history (the purpose here is not to demonstrate that one is an historian but rather to allow one to demonstrate she has a clear sense that she is assuming a responsible place in this living history), 3) a theology of the vows, the proposed vow formula itself, and how the vows are lived out specifically and generally, 4) provisions for study, ongoing formation, spiritual direction, retreat and desert days, 5) affiliation with monasteries, predominant spirituality, etc (as applicable), 6) the place and nature of hospitality, 7) work, how much, what type, where it will occur, etc, 8) provisions for future needs (income, burial, insurance, etc).

Besides prayer, one also needs to cover 9) any ministry undertaken and whether in or out of the hermitage, 10) relationship with parish and diocese including not only participation in the parish and the forms that will take, but some consideration of one's relationship with one's Bishop, the place (and person) of a diocesan delegate in the scheme of things, frequency and nature of contact with these, etc, and 11) a horarium which, at least generally, specifies the shape of one's day: rising, meals, prayer, lectio, work, ministry, recreation and errands, hours of rest and sleep. (If one has significant personal exigencies which bear on these (chronic illness, for instance) it is usually a good idea to state these up front and note that these occasionally demand some flexibility with regard to horarium, etc, rather than trying to minimize the demands of the life throughout the Rule. One's descriptions should be about what is generally possible and prudent for one --- not an idealization of what another hermit MIGHT live if they were able.)

I have written here before about writing one's own Rule of Life and how to begin that. It makes clear that one writes a rule based on one's own experience living the life. Therefore, even though the above elements seem numerous and perhaps overwhelming when set out this way, there is plenty of room for individuality and flexibility. No two hermits will write about poverty or obedience or chastity in precisely the same way, for instance, but the ways they live this out will still involve similarities. No two hermits will approach penance in the same way, or hospitality, or stricter separation from the world, but their Rules will reflect on these realities and describe how one honors them on a day-to-day basis.

So long as one includes the essential elements of the canon, remembers what kind of document one is writing, and takes care of the normal needs of a truly eremitical life, one can make the Rule as brief and individual as one needs. One is expressing one's life in this, especially the values and place of Christ in structuring and empowering that. In part, a Rule is an expression of one's faith then, but it also outlines the form and essential elements that make that life a true expression of that faith lived out as a solitary diocesan hermit --- not merely as an individual doing as they like throughout the day. In other words, to some extent, the Rule serves to reflect, govern, nurture, and protect the solitary eremitical vocation itself, not merely the individual's OWN vocation to this life. Stated another way we can say that the Rule makes sure the individual vocation grows as an expression of the vocation to solitary eremitical life itself. This helps explain the tension between institutional expectations and the individuality which also is reflected in such a document. Should, for instance, a person find there is actual and significant conflict between these two dimensions they may well thus be discerning they are not called to canonical profession under canon 603.

Feast of the Baptism of Jesus (Reprise with tweaks)

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. This solidarity is reflected in his statement to John that together they must fulfill the will of God. 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 from true God" and who, evenso, is consecrated to and by 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? In fact, none of this was comfortable for early Christians either. They were embarrassed by Jesus' baptism by John --- as Matt's added explanation of the reasons for it in vv 14-15 indicate. They were concerned that perhaps it indicated Jesus inferiority to John the Baptist and they wondered if perhaps it meant that Jesus had sinned prior to his baptism. And perhaps this is as it should be. Perhaps the scandal attached signals to us we are getting this right theologically.

After all, today's feast tells us that Jesus' public ministry begins with a consecration and commissioning by God which is somewhat similar to our own baptismal consecration. His public life begins with an event that prefigures his end as well. There is a real dying to self involved here, not because Jesus has a false self which must die -- as each of us has --- but because his life is placed completely at the disposal of his God, his Abba, in solidarity with us. 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 and surrendering all other life-possibilities 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.

Singing our Magnificats, Looking back and ahead

With our celebration of Jesus' baptism the celebration of the Christmas season draws to an end. In a short two weeks we moved from the nativity of Jesus, through readings which marked his growth in stature and grace, and we now approach the feast of his commissioning by God and Jesus' own acceptance of all it means to be Son. But from the beginning of Advent throughout the Christmas season we heard stories of individuals brought from barrenness, silence, and muteness to fruitfulness and the bold speech the Scriptures calls parrhesia. There was Hanna, a barren Jewish woman, whose faith eventually allowed God to act in her so that she might have a son. She gave birth to Samuel and sang her gratitude for the fruition of God's Word in the "Canticle of Anna". There was Elizabeth, a voiceless woman in Judaism who gave birth to John the Baptist, and who stood up against the religious establishment of her day proclaiming, "No! His name will be John!" and Zecharia who doubted God could bring new life out of barrenness and was made mute, but who eventually affirmed with his wife, "No, his name will be John" and regained a powerful voice in bending to God's will. As a result we have the Canticle of Zechariah, another eloquent symbol of the speech or word event a human being can become.

John the Baptist leaps in response to the Word of God and becomes more than just a Prophet, but also the actual forerunner of God's Christ. His own austere song is the call to repentence and purification! There was, of course, Mary whose own virginity and fiat issued --- through the grace of God --- in the birth of Jesus and the magnificat which, like Hanna's canticle, is emblematic of true obedience and the reversals God effects in our lives and world when God's Word and Spirit are allowed to have their way. There was Simeon who saw Jesus in the Temple and sang his praise as he spoke of his own willingness to die now that the goal of his life had been accomplished.

God's own story was rehearsed twice for us during this season in the prologue to John's Gospel, first on Christmas day, and again last Friday. It is the story of a move from the "aloneness" of the Communion we call God through the Word's sounding in the silence and emptiness of chaos to the resultant coming to be of a creation on its way to being the articulate expression of God's glory. It is a story, and in fact a song, which comes to a particular climax in the nativity and life of Christ as the Word is enfleshed to dwell amongst us. In every case, and in the stories of so many more individuals in the Scriptures --- prophets, judges, etc --- we have God bringing, summoning, to fruition and articulation his own Word --- always out of silence, chaos, barrenness, etc. And now, we approach the feast of the Baptism which marks Jesus' own adult acceptance of divine Sonship, his own commissioning to move out of the silence and privacy of familial obscurity into the public ministry which is his to claim. He will be THE Word of Power for the world and we will be told, "This is my beloved Son. Listen (hearken) to him!"

Theologians use the term "the Christ Event" to refer to Jesus' life, death, resurrection, and ascension. But, because of what happens to the world in these events, the term refers to more than this single life. It refers as well to those who come to participate in Jesus' life and share it, to those who accept their own calls to articulate the Word of God in Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit, to those who literally become part of the body of Christ and share in the dynamic spoken of in Ephesians, "Christ brought to full stature." Each of us have a place in continuing and extending the range and scope of the Christ Event. Each of us can allow or prevent the Word from coming to greater or fuller articulation in our world. Each of us may come to be an exhaustive articulation of the Glory of God, or not.

We are at the beginning of the Church year still, but this weekend's feast challenges us to accept the commissioning which accompanies Jesus' own. With Hanna, Elizabeth, Zechariah, John the Baptist, Mary, Simeon, et al, we are to become expressions of the Word of God within us and reveal the glory of God with our lives. The reversals spoken of by Hanna and Mary, the reversals proclaimed and embodied by Christ are to become the melody of our lives as each one becomes a canticle, psalm, or magnificat of God's power, and no other. My prayer is that each of us will find and assume our place and our voice in the Christ Event and sing those magnificats until every person has joined in the song, indeed until the whole of creation is one full-throated hymn of revelation and praise to God.

Christmas News from Transfiguration Monastery

Transfiguration Monastery, the only Camaldolese Monastery of nuns in the United States, has seen another year of changes. They are exciting and mainly positive. (One is a bit sad, I think.)

In the community's Christmas letter, Sister Donald writes, [[ We hope that by Christmas a permanent chaplain will join us: Fr Robert Dwyer, a retired priest of this diocese and a long time friend of the monastery. We have spent the past several months working on the construction of a hermitage for Fr Dwyer. We've also had visits this fall from a number of women who have an interest in living monastic life --- and we will have two more with us at Christmas time.

Sister Jeanne Marie is now residing at Susquehanna nursing home and is still very much a part of our community, supporting us above all in her prayer. She was with us on the Feast of All Saints and for Thanksgiving. [Contact information is available for those wishing to contact her.]

On December 8th, Mary Fedorchak received the habit and became "Sister Mary Catherine". Mary chose the name Catherine because of the influence in her life of Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the founder of Madonna House in Canada. We are delighted and rejoice in the many talents and good spirit she brings to the community. . . .

Sister Sheila remains our principal cook and bread baker. She is also our liturgist, excellent chant teacher and musician, seamstress, and is teaching us a course on the Book of Ruth. Sister Donald gave retreats, workshops, and talks in Dallas, Kalamazoo, at St John's Abbey, in California, and at the monastery here in Windsor. She is also teaching two courses for the deacon candidates in our diocese: Christology and spirituality.

At the end of September, Sister Barbara, novice mistress of our Motherhouse in Rome, came for a long-awaited canonical visit. Sister Barbara is young, enthusiastic, and was very supportive of our efforts here. She was eager to improve her English and we now have more incentive to work on Italian.]]

I do ask for your prayers for Transfiguration, and urge you to consider supporting these Sisters in whatever way you can. Also, please consider making a retreat there or attending a workshop (or one of the retreats Sister Donald gives in CA or Dallas for those interested in a Benedictine experience). The Camaldolese Benedictine charism is centuries old (almost 10 centuries in fact) and one of the few places eremitical life, cenobitical life, and evangelization are blended in the way that happens at Transfiguration. Those interested in living an expression of Camaldolese spirituality outside a monastery might also want to consider becoming Camaldolese Oblates, whether with Transfiguration or with New Camaldoli (monks) in Big Sur, or Incarnation Monastery (monks, house of studies) in Berkeley. Oblates make their stability with one of these houses, but are always welcome at any of them.

Update 2013: Transfiguration Monastery has ceased to be a Camaldolese Monastery and is formally becoming an American Benedictine house/congregation. Those who are interested in becoming Camaldolese Oblates should probably contact New Camaldoli or Incarnation Monastery. Those of us who are already Camaldolese Oblates with our affiliation with Transfiguration have the option of maintaining our oblature here or transferring it to one of these other houses. The Camaldolese charism will remain a significant part of Transfiguration's inspiration, heritage, and ministry.

Feast of the Epiphany

There is something stunning about the story of the Epiphany and we often don't see or hear it, I think, because the story is so familiar to us. It is the challenge which faces us precisely because our God is one who comes to us in littleness, weakness, and obscurity, and meets us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place. It is truly stunning I think to find three magi (whoever these were and whatever they represented in terms of human power, wealth, and wisdom) recognizing in a newborn baby, not only the presence of a life with cosmic significance but, in fact, the incarnation of God and savior of the world. I have rarely been particularly struck by this image of the Magi meeting the child Jesus and presenting him with gifts, but this year I see it clearly as a snapshot of the entire Gospel story with all its hope, wonder, poignancy, challenge, and demand.

If the identities of the Magi are unclear, the dynamics of the picture are not. Here we have learned men who represent all of the known world and the power, wealth, and knowledge therein who spend their lives in search of (or at least watching for the coming of) something which transcends their own realms and its wisdom and knowledge, coming to kneel and lay symbols of their wealth before a helpless, Jewish baby of common and even questionable birth. They ostensibly identify this child, lying in a feeding trough, as the King of the Jews. Yes, they followed a star to find him, but evenso, their recognition of the nature and identity of this baby is surprising. Especially so is the fact that they come to worship him. The stunning nature of this epiphany is underscored by the story of the massacre of the male babies in Bethlehem by the Jewish ruler, Herod. Despite his being heralded as the messiah, and so too, the Jewish King, there is nothing apparently remarkable about the baby from Herod's perspective, nothing, that is, which allows him to be distinguished from any other male baby of similar age, and so Herod has all such babies indiscriminately killed.

One child, two antithetical attitudes and responses: the first, an openness which leads to recognition and the humbling subordination of worship; the second, an attitude of closedness, self-protectiveness, and fear, which leads not only to a failure of recognition but to arrogant and murderous oppression. And in between these two attitudes and responses, we must also see the far more common ones marking lives which miss this event altogether. In every case, the Christ Event marks the coming of the sovereign, creator, God among us, but in the littleness, weakness, and obscurity of ordinary human being. In this way God meets us each in the unexpected and even unacceptable place (the manger, the cross, human being, self-emptying, weakness, companionship with serious sinners, etc) --- if we only have the eyes of faith which allow us to recognize and worship him!

My thanks to those who have patiently read my blog during my absence over the past couple of weeks. This post is unfinished, and I will complete it later tonight probably, but I wanted to put it up even so. Meanwhile, my best wishes for the rest of this Christmas season! May it be a holy and fruitful time for each of you and your families.