More on Writing a Rule of Life: Is it for Religious and Hermits Only?

[[Hi Sister Laurel! You wrote recently that you were editing your Rule. Do you have to do that often? What makes it necessary. . .does your Bishop require it? I am not and don't want to be a hermit because I am married. . . but I wonder if it would help me to write a Rule of Life? Any ideas?]]

Hi there, yourself, and peace! Yes, I am editing my Rule and no, it is not something I need to do very often -- although I do treat my Rule as a document I reflect on, and which I have completely covered with marginalia, etc over the last few years. I have written several versions over the 31 years I have lived as a hermit, but only two were submitted to the diocese. The one I am editing was submitted in 2005 so that is six years ago --- enough time to have grown in the vocation, changed some of my daily and weekly schedule, and come to reflect on and understand better central elements of the Canon governing this life. As a result I am mainly adding or expanding sections I either didn't discuss sufficiently or did not include at all. One of those has to do with stability; a second has to do with the charism or gift quality of the diocesan hermit; a third has to do with stricter separation from the world; and the last one is an expansion of the section on "the silence of solitude". My horarium has also changed enough to require rewriting --- though this is less significant than the other redactions.

What makes these changes necessary? As noted, I may not have written about these sections sufficiently or at all even. I may not have understood them sufficiently, and have only come to this as I have lived the Rule and reflected on either Canon 603 and its central elements or those of monastic life more generally. They may have assumed a place in my life they did not have 6 years ago, or I may only now truly appreciate their importance for my own vocation and the vocation to diocesan eremitism generally. For instance, stability is a significant Benedictine value and vow, but Canon 603 uses the three more typically Franciscan vows (poverty, chastity, obedience) instead. Because of this, I had not consciously lived stability or explored it from the inside out until after I had made final oblature with the Camaldolese, attended a couple of Benedictine experience retreats, and considered how stability fit in with the three perpetual vows I had made in 2007. I think stability is something one needs to live for a while before one presumes to write about it. While it is not explicitly mentioned in Canon 603, it is really central to monastic life and to the life of the diocesan hermit who is vowed within a specific diocese.

The same is true of stricter separation from the world. One needs to learn what "the world" really is in this canon as well as in one's own life, and then too, what fosters one's ability to live out real separation from this. Paradoxically, one must also determine what is necessary to live one's vocation with integrity and in a way which nurtures one's own growth in wholeness and holiness. The things which truly do this are not "the world" in the sense the canon means and must be accommodated without compromising other elements of the life (the silence of solitude, assiduous prayer and penance) for instance. Again, this is something one learns only in the living of the vocation. Otherwise, one is tempted to simply say "the world" is anything not explicitly "spiritual" (for instance) and then reject this global reality without really knowing how elements within it truly affect one's life --- do they lead to growth or the dissipation of one's vocation, for instance? Do they enhance one's spirituality or detract from it? When and to what degree, if any, do they fit the eremitical life, and why and how does the individual hermit decide that?

An example of what I mean here is the movie I went to see recently, Of Gods and Men. I went with friends from the parish and yes, we went during Lent when my own solitude is even stricter than usual. A while back I went to see The King's Speech -- though that time I went alone. In both instances the movies were incredibly well done and incredibly moving. Of Gods and Men reprised the story of the quiet, faithful, and deeply communal nature of the Cistercian life which, especially in its vow of stability leads these monks to martyrdom. That I attended with other Christians also celebrating Lent added to the meaning of the experience, but since I was working on stability in my own Rule, this film served to encapsulate many of the dimensions I had come to know myself and is still informing and inspiring my own work and prayer.

In The King's Speech a man finds his true voice through the hard work of therapy and comes to inspire his entire country thus helping them to win their war with Germany. In this movie I saw clearly the recovery of the true self and the coming to parrhesia (bold speech) which is so important in the New Testament and discipleship. People are called to be speech events and in The King's Speech we see a man redeemed to answer that very call. Both of these themes: stability and speech events are central to my own theology and spirituality. Both films touched dimensions in me, nourished and fed me in ways which were completely consistent with my vocation.

Were these "worldly" activities? I don't think so, for worldly events don't feed, nourish, challenge or inspire in this way. Instead I approach these as exercises in Lectio --- where I will listen carefully and over a period of time, reflect on and journal about what I experience, etc. Is God present here? Of course, mediated clearly and eloquently in the films. Is this true with any film? Of course not. Should a hermit be going to movies regularly? No, probably not --- though I could see a hermit legitimately going to a carefully-chosen movie every other month or so if this was the one solitary activity outside the hermitage she allowed herself regularly (and if she could actually find a really good film to see this frequently!). More likely the hermit will see occasional movies once they are out on DVD and remain in the hermitage while she does that. In any case, such things must be discerned carefully, and part of that discernment is a careful assessment of what the effects on the hermit's life are. Six years ago, as I considered the meaning of "Stricter separation from the world" I might not have considered going to any movies on an occasional basis as a piece of genuine lectio, but today experience tells me I can do that --- at least at the present time --- though it is far from stereotypical notions of the hermit life.

Stereotypes of eremitical life work by generalizing without adequate experience or true reflection. If one proceeds in this way one may end up saying simplistic things like: hermits don't need friends, or hermit conversations should avoid anything but the strictly spiritual (what is the strictly spiritual anyway?), or one must never eat or do anything which gives one pleasure since, "One is to take pleasure in God alone" (never mind all the myriad ways God's own wonder and beauty is mediated to us on a daily basis, apparently). It is bad enough to have non-hermits believe stereotypes, but it is tragic and completely disedifying to have would-be hermits representing living instances of them as a pretense of something more authentic. One can read everything there is to read on the values which are central to eremitical life, but until one embraces all the rights and responsibilities associated with the life and makes (or struggles to make) these values one's own in response to God's own Word and will, one is unlikely to understand or be able to write about them sufficiently well for a Rule of Life.

To get back to how all this ties in with your questions, what is generally true is that the changes in a Rule are driven by the hermit herself and her experience of the life. While I suppose it is possible for my Bishop to require me to rewrite it (or to refuse to allow a certain practice), the Rule is the most highly individual element of the Canon. It is here that constant or uniform elements are combined in a unique and, one prays, inspired expression of this life.

Writing Your Own Rule of Life

Regarding writing a Rule of Life for yourself, I would enthusiastically suggest you give it a try, but expect it to be a demanding job, and let it take some time! As I have written in the past I have rarely experienced such a formative process as the writing of my Rule. I suspect it is the same for everyone who tries it. A Rule is a document embodying the values which are central to your life, and the praxis which allows you to live these out with genuine integrity. A Rule tells the story of how it is God works in your life to bring it to wholeness and holiness. It inspires, encourages, challenges, and focuses. In writing such a "Rule" you don't have to use the very same values a hermit or monastic uses. You could (and really should) begin with your own understanding of the Gospel and determine how it is God calls you to live out a commitment to this within the context of lay life. Instead of building parts of the Rule around religious vows, you could reflect on and build things around your marriage vows, for instance. Of course, you might also use monastic values as well, but tailored for lay life. What would stability (for instance) look like in the life of a mom or dad, husband or wife? What values would it serve? What needs in the family or community? Would it be countercultural or prophetic? How about conversion of life? Prayer and Penance? What about issues of economy, ecology, health, etc? All of these could fit well in a Rule of Life and be a source of inspiration for others.

Your Rule would not necessarily ask you to do anything new (though of course it could), but it would focus your life in various ways, and it would require (and give you a vehicle which allowed) you to grapple with the various priorities and tensions you experience everyday in a conscious and reflective way. Hopefully it would serve to articulate how it is that love governs your life --- love of God in Christ, of course, but love of your husband, children, friends, community, Church, world, etc. I would personally love to read the result because all too often Rules are associated with religious life and not with lay vocations. If you could create a Rule over time which allows you to live your marriage/family and community commitments more care-fully it would be wonderful, and something others might learn from or be inspired by.

By the way, a book you might be interested in reading given this last question is Margaret Guenther's, At Home in the World, A Rule of Life for the Rest of Us. Where I use the image of Rule as a rail on a stairway as my primary metaphor for the way a Rule functions, Guenther refers to it as a trellis supporting the growth of a vine. She adds a number of questions for reflection which will help a person determine the place of certain elements in their life --- many you might not otherwise consider. I do recommend it.

"Of Gods and Men" and the Commitment to Stability

Last year (maybe even the year before that) I read the story of the Cistercian Monks who were living in Algeria and eventually were martyred for their faith. This last week I had a chance to see the movie made of this story with a couple of friends from my parish.

There are a number of wonderful aspects to this movie. It paints a beautiful portrait of monastic life and the centrality of liturgy in the life of the Trappist monk, but especially it makes clear the place of the psalms/Scripture in that life. The chanting was excellent and moving (not professional!) and the lyrics of the psalms mirrored the lives of these monks -- particularly as the crisis which enveloped the countryside also increasingly threatened the monks' own lives. The film clearly demonstrated the simplicity of the life, the silence and solitude, but also the community and the presence to others as the monastery becomes an integral part of the fabric of the local region --- trusted and beloved by the local residents. Especially wonderful (and deserving of a post all its own!) was the monk's ecumenical presence and sensitivity which is part of genuine Christianity. Scenes showed the Prior studying the Koran, a number of the monks celebrating Muslim festivities with local families, and of course, the monastery "doctor" was the doctor everyone -- including Muslim women -- turned to in need.

The aspect that was most moving to me was reflected in this last ecumenical dimension and bond; it was the struggle by the individual monks to determine how monastic stability would shape their lives as they, and everyone around them, undeniably came under threat and remained under threat. The threat to the monks grows. One knows that the alternatives are "stay and die" or "leave and live." Over the length of the film several monastic chapters are held --- periods where the monks meet (in this case) around a table and are given a brief lesson by the prior. (Chapters are a regular (daily or weekly, etc) part of monastic life and the prior or prioress is ordinarily the one who gives a lesson; in his or her absence monks and nuns might, for instance, listen to a series of tapes on the Rule or some other dimension of their lives.) Afterward there is a discussion and in Of Gods and Men the monks state honestly what their own feelings and discernment are regarding staying or returning to France in the face of the danger that accompanies their lives and grows evermore critical.

Initially several monks want to leave and return to France and monastic life there, but as days and weeks go by each man comes to terms with his fear and his commitment to remain here in this monastery and among these people --- all of whom are as threatened and terrified as the monks themselves. The psalms prayed during Office take on a sharper poignancy and striking relevance. Individual prayer in chapel or in their cells at night show them wrestling with their fear -- and with their commitment both to their brother monks and to the people they serve and rightly call "neighbor". At the final chapter shown in the movie, each man expresses his discernment that he is called to stay here. The choices are made in complete freedom, but they are anguished as well. The film flinches from neither the profound faith nor the abject fear which co-exist in this process of discernment and commitment.



Soon after, there is a scene where a military helicopter flies right up to the windows of the chapel, machine guns seemingly ready to annihilate the little community who prays within. The monks stand together in their cowls, hands around waists or on shoulders in affection, support, and solidarity, as they sing a hymn which grows in power and expression of conviction. It is almost a perfect portrait of the peace of Christ -- the peace the world cannot give, and of course the peace which is not without pain, fear, or struggle. As one of the monks summed up at the last chapter: "I am not afraid of death; I am a free man." These men know who they are most fundamentally, and why they are as well. They remain in Christ, and so too, they remain committed to one another and to all around them. They come to possess themselves completely in giving themselves over to that which is outside their control. Soon after, the monastery is broken into in the middle of the night and all but two of the monks (one of whom crawls under a bed and is missed) are taken further into the mountains where they are executed.

In the past weeks I have been reflecting on and writing about stability -- not merely for this blog, but for my own Rule which I am revising some. Some of the impetus for this reflection involved the recent questions on the relationship between struggle and the peace of Christ in authentic vocations, and this movie would certainly illustrate some of what I said in reply in my last post. For that matter, Lent also has been a stimulus to this reflection as the stories of Jesus lead into the increasing tension between Jesus and the religious authorities of his day -- and to a sense that there is an inevitable and apparently senseless execution in the offing unless Jesus chooses another course. But of course, Jesus does not move on or away; he chooses to cast his lot in with sinful humanity -- and with God's own purposes. And so too with these Trappists. They cast their lots in with one another in THIS monastery and with the Muslim people of this area of Algeria, and they lose (and find!!) their lives in the process.


Here again is part of Charles Cummings', OCSO, description of stability which I posted several entries ago: [[ Stability is the promise to stay here with Christ and with these others, and to stay awake to support each other during the struggle. The interior aspect refers to the heart awakened to the needs and feelings of others, to the will and the word of God in our midst. The contrary attitude is to stay on in monastic [or eremitical] life with increasing hardness of heart and dullness of hearing, until the sparkle goes out of our eyes and we only hang around waiting for the evening paper.]] (Cummings, Monastic Practices, p 173.)

In today's highly mobile society where convenience often wins out over commitment and we live among others we generally allow to remain strangers -- who, that is, we never make neighbors (much less truly love as we love ourselves!), where we parish shop to find the perfect faith community which best serves us, and where sometimes even our own spiritual sojourning is less a journey in Christ than it is a search for the next spiritual high or a way to fulfill our own wholly selfish desires, we need the story of these monks. Martyrdom is not merely an ancient reality but a contemporary one, while stability is not merely a monastic discipline and value, but a human one --- necessary for finding and claiming ourselves, necessary for truly loving others. It is, as I noted recently, the quintessentially Christian value --- the commitment to remain with (and in) Christ in this place and with these people so that we may all grow to fullness of humanity together.

Addendum: Last Will and Testament of Father Christian (Prior)

If it should happen one day - and it could be today - that I become a victim of the terrorism which now seems ready to engulf all the foreigners living in Algeria, I would like my community, my Church and my family to remember that my life was GIVEN to God and to this country.

I ask them to accept the fact that the One Master of all life was not a stranger to this brutal departure. I would ask them to pray for me: for how could I be found worthy of such an offering? I ask them to associate this death with so many other equally violent ones which are forgotten through indifference or anonymity.

My life has no more value than any other. Nor any less value. In any case, it has not the innocence of childhood. I have lived long enough to know that I am an accomplice in the evil which seems to prevail so terribly in the world, even in the evil which might blindly strike me down.

I should like, when the time comes, to have a moment of spiritual clarity which would allow me to beg forgiveness of God and of my fellow human beings, and at the same time forgive with all my heart the one who would strike me down. I could not desire such a death. It seems to me important to state this. I do not see, in fact, how I could rejoice if the people I love were indiscriminately accused of my murder. It would be too high a price to pay for what will perhaps be called, the "grace of martyrdom" to owe it to an Algerian, whoever he might be, especially if he says he is acting in fidelity to what he believes to be Islam.

I am aware of the scorn which can be heaped on the Algerians indiscriminately. I am also aware of the caricatures of Islam which a certain Islamism fosters. It is too easy to soothe one's conscience by identifying this religious way with the fundamentalist ideology of its extremists. For me, Algeria and Islam are something different: it is a body and a soul. I have proclaimed this often enough, I think, in the light of what I have received from it. I so often find there that true strand of the Gospel which I learned at my mother's knee, my very first Church, precisely in Algeria, and already inspired with respect for Muslim believers.

Obviously, my death will appear to confirm those who hastily judged me naïve or idealistic: "Let him tell us now what he thinks of his ideals!" But these persons should know that finally my most avid curiosity will be set free. This is what I shall be able to do, God willing: immerse my gaze in that of the Father to contemplate with him His children of Islam just as He sees them, all shining with the glory of Christ, the fruit of His Passion, filled with the Gift of the Spirit whose secret joy will always be to establish communion and restore the likeness, playing with the differences.

For this life lost, totally mine and totally theirs, I thank God, who seems to have willed it entirely for the sake of that JOY in everything and in spite of everything. In this THANK YOU, which is said for everything in my life from now on, I certainly include you, friends of yesterday and today, and you, my friends of this place, along with my mother and father, my sisters and brothers and their families,

You are the hundredfold granted as was promised! And also you, my last-minute friend, who will not have known what you were doing: Yes, I want this THANK YOU and this GOODBYE to be a "GOD-BLESS" for you, too, because in God's face I see yours.

May we meet again as happy thieves in Paradise, if it please God, the Father of us both.

AMEN ! INCHALLAH !

Postscript: Despite winning a number of international awards, "Of Gods and Men" is not playing at many theaters and it will probably not be out much longer, but I sincerely recommend you see it if you can. It is perfect for Lent, of course, but is simply wonderful generally.

On Struggle, the Peace of Christ, and Authenticity in Eremitical Vocations

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, you wrote, [[(Note, this does not preclude experiments with horarium, etc, nor times when one is ill and needs certain praxis relaxed, etc. Neither does it refer to a hermitage where the hermit sometimes truly struggles with the elements central to her life. Emphatically not!) Hypocrisy [and pretense], however, [are] symptomatic of "the world", not of a hermitage.]] Do you struggle with elements of your life? Does this happen only once in a while or is it an all-the-time kind of thing? I have always thought a hermitage was a tranquil place of peace and communion with God. I also always thought that peace is part of a true vocation and that struggle meant that one does not have such a vocation. Can you comment on this for me?]]

Peace and Struggle are Related

Hi there! These are great questions and I think the heart of the answer has to do with the difference between the peace of Christ and more secular notions of peace which preclude all struggle (or all challenge!). My own experience of the peace of Christ, or the peace of God, is that it is, at the same time, a very demanding reality which empowers an individual to grow and mature with confidence and security because they are aware of who they are in God. More about that below.

So, do I struggle with elements of the eremitical life? Yes, assuredly. Partly that is because one element of the eremitical life IS struggle --- the struggle between truth and falsehood in our own being, but partly (and this, though related, is more to the point) it is because I am growing in this vocation. Eremitical life is an exercise in living and learning to live fully in Christ. It is an exercise in learning to receive the gifts of meaning, and love, and so many other things which are occasioned by abundant life in Christ. All of the routines, disciplines, and concrete praxis in the hermitage, are at the service of this learning. In some ways the hermitage supplies an essentially tranquil context for the deeper struggles of becoming a truly human being.

But sometimes it is the elements of the context itself that give me trouble --- and for the same reason --- because they occasion inner or deeper struggles between truth and untruth and with becoming more truly human; I think that is what you are asking about. So yes, poverty is sometimes difficult for me, and so is one dimension of stability, namely the pilgrimage side of that (we need to be able to move freely and be detached even while we commit ourselves to community, diocese, etc; stability is not a matter of being stuck in a rut or one of "entrenchment". Stability requires detachment and openness to change as well, paradoxical as that sounds. Sometimes that is difficult for me.) Obedience is sometimes a real trial for me. I do not generally struggle with solitude or silence, nor with prayer in a general way or penance, for instance, but I do struggle pretty regularly with some of these other things.

The Paradoxical Nature of the Hermitage

I suppose most people have the idea that a hermitage is a fairly laid-back place of rest, and in a way, they would be right. But as I have also written, hermitages are laboratories or studios where the composition God wishes one to become is worked out --- often with lots of scratched out passages, unscored dissonances, misplayed notes, and very real anguish! The desert Abbas and Ammas were very clear about the fact that the desert was the place where one struggled regularly with demons, and, again, those demons are mainly our own, carried deep within our own hearts. Thomas Merton wrote that the hermitage was the place where we get rid of any impersonation that might be present, and I would affirm that here one works on the destruction of any discrepancy between role and identity and learns to be truly transparent, both before God, to oneself, and --- to the degree it is prudent and pastoral, with others.

The hermitage is the place one lives in a conscious way and as constantly as one is able before the face or gaze of God. That is at once both a wonderfully affirming and recreating, as well as a terribly demanding task and experience. All of those things which prevent us from loving well, all of those things which have wounded and distorted us as human beings eventually must be worked through here. Union with God is the primary goal of the hermitage to which all else is ordered; it is the reason hermitages exist, and while this does not mean a stress-filled vocation, it does indicate an intense one. For me it is akin to playing a Beethoven symphony with an orchestra: we work and work intensely --- individually, together in sectionals, with and without the conductor, with the whole orchestra in ways which are physically, intellectually, and emotionally exhausting, and yet, the invigoration and sheer re-creative power of the work is awesome. When the music is allowed to come to life through this orchestra, and through (for instance) my own heart, mind, and muscles as a functioning part of this orchestra, the experience is indescribably exhilarating and joyful even as it exhausts. Life in the hermitage is like that.

As noted in the beginning of this post, the peace of Christ (as Jesus himself tells us) is not as the world gives. It is a wonderful and deeply invigorating security which allows us to be essentially confident of ourselves and our value --- even when all the usual "worldly" props (success, productivity, achievement, health, etc) are kicked out from under us. We exist in Christ, and because we do, we know who we truly are and how very deeply loved and precious --- even when we are sinning, (". . .he died for us while we were yet. . . ungodly. . .Rom 5:6-8). THAT is the peace of Christ. But that also means it is a challenging reality which constantly summons us to more --- to greater integrity, greater wholeness, greater compassion and sensitivity, greater capacities for love and friendship and humanity. And of course, again, it does this in the face of those demons which are so deeply entrenched in our own hearts!

Peace and the True Vocation

Regarding your question about the nature and signs of a genuine vocation, then, it should be clear that SOME struggles are inherent in a true vocation. If a vocation or vocational path (marriage, religious life, eremitical life, etc) provides the context in which one discovers this peace of Christ and can grow to wholeness and sanctity in light of it, then I think that is a sign one has discovered one's true vocation. If, on the other hand, a person is generally miserable, and finds she is becoming less and less human in the process, less able physically or emotionally, for instance, to be honest with herself, or to live generously and joyfully the truth of who she is, then I don't think this person has found her true vocation --- no matter how intensely she desires it. The same is true when every element of a life is a torment, when they isolate and fragment the person, when they function like saltwater would for a thirsty person.

None of the elements of eremitical life are comfortable all the time (and as I have argued, neither should they be), but on the whole, these elements are life-giving pieces of a context in which one feels deeply at home, profoundly alive and at rest --- a sense one internalizes and carries with one even when one is outside the hermitage, for instance. As an example, it is a vastly different thing to struggle with poverty or stability, or eremitical silence or solitude because these are sources of life and verification (making true) for us, and to feel --- or evidence to ourselves or others!--- that these things stifle or even harm one's authentic humanity. Similarly, it is a vastly different thing to find that the disciplines of a particular vocation strip one of one's false humanity, than to find they actually contribute to the falsification or even destruction of one's true self because one is called to another vocational path. I suspect a lot of the latter dynamic can be found veiled in the language of unhealthy spirituality (often the language of some sort of pseudo-mystical misery), but how ever it is clothed, the bottom line is one often becomes less and less human in such mistaken vocations.

Anyway, I hope this is helpful. As I always say, if it raises other questions or has been unclear, please do get back to me.

N.B., the illustration above is a picture of a painting of St Romuald receiving the gift of tears --- the seminal event in Romuald's spiritual life, and in the life of the Camaldolese. It was done by Brother Emmaus, OSB Cam while at New Camaldoli. (Brother is now at Glenstal Abbey discerning his vocation there.) I chose it because of the joy which permeates Romuald, despite and even because of his tears. In any case, I think it symbolizes well what I have been writing about in this post.

Addendum: I was just informed that Brother Emmaus O'Herlihy has completed his novitiate at Glenstal Abbey and has made simple vows for the next three years. Brother was professed on September 25, 2011.

Hermitage as Outpost of the World? Questions.

[[Dear Sister, you wrote recently that it was possible for a hermitage to become an instance of "the world." I think you have said that before and I don't really understand what you meant. Can you explain this to me?]]

Sure, I would be happy to give that a shot. Remember that "the world" means that which is resistant to Christ or promises fulfillment apart from him. It is not so much a distinct "thing" out there, some sort of "pure object" (as Merton explains) as it is something which is untrue or illusory with regard to reality. "The world" represents a falsification of what is real. What I wrote earlier was, [[. . . This sense of the term "world" refers to anything which is untrue, distorted, resistant to life, to love, and to all the rest of the values which constitute life in God. But it is not God's good creation, therefore, from which we mainly separate ourselves. It is "the world" of falsehood, chaos, and meaninglessness, and this means that it is not something distinct existing merely outside of ourselves, but instead is a reality which is intimately related to the darkness, woundedness, distortions, and sclerosis (hardness) of our own hearts.]]

So, bearing that in mind, how could a hermitage become an actual outpost of "the world"? What I originally had in mind was the falsehood that one could simply shut the door on "the world" and forget about "the world" represented by the wounded, distorted, and false parts of one's own heart. I was thinking of situations where a hermitage was treated as a holy place completely separate from the rest of temporal-spatial reality. It would be a fundamental untruth to deny that one carries the world deeply in one's own heart or to affirm that one can simply shut some physical door on "the world" and treat it as something merely "out there". Such a foundational falsehood would therefore become an instance of "the world" or "worldly (anti-Christ) thinking" and the hermitage (and the eremitical life!) built on and pervaded by such an untruth --- as well as by the resulting pretense that one does not need to depend wholly upon God's mercy and love --- would then become an outpost and symbol of these -- an outpost and symbol of the very reality they are meant to stand in opposition to. More, in embracing such untruth and pretense, the hermit abdicates her responsibility (and her capacity) to speak the truth into the situation outside the hermitage in a way which will redeem it.

It is true that hermitages can (and are meant to be) holy places, but they are also, for that very reason, places where the struggle between truth and untruth is often waged in earnest. This (struggle) is not always the dominant reality within the hermitage but to abandon this struggle by treating "the world" as something merely exterior to oneself and one's place, is to turn away not only from a central aspect of the eremitical vocation, but from the ministry of reconciliation --- which is every Christian's --- while embracing untruth and distortion instead. Other ways of abandoning the struggle include abandoning prayer or any other central discipline of the hermitage. (Note, this does not preclude experiments with horarium, etc, nor times when one is ill and needs certain praxis relaxed, etc. Neither does it refer to a hermitage where the hermit sometimes truly struggles with the elements central to her life. Emphatically not!) Hypocrisy and pretense, however, are symptomatic of "the world", not of a hermitage.

That's the brief answer. I hope it helps!

On Diocese-Shopping by Hermit Candidates, Stability, etc.

[[Hi, Sister Laurel. I guess my question has to do with "stability". I read in the blog of another hermit that she or he planned to go on a "road trip" to different abbeys and dioceses to find someone to make him/her a canonical hermit. Is this okay to do?]]

Interesting question. My own sense is that first of all such a quest would be fruitless, and that it ought to be fruitless except in limited instances. I don't think any Bishop would seriously entertain such a request from someone merely shopping for someone to profess and/or consecrate them. For that matter, a person in such circumstances is unlikely to even get an appointment with the Bishop.

In my own diocese, for instance, people work through Vocation directors and/or the Vicars for Religious before ever seeing the Bishop in such a matter. They do this in part because these persons can discern vocations and work with individuals in ways the Bishop cannot do. Once they have determined there is a likely vocation here and are willing to recommend admission to profession, the Bishop is notified and the candidate for profession begins meetings with him. He too needs to discern this vocation as well as make decisions for the diocese, for as I have written recently, the diocese is committing to a change in its own life here and taking a chance on this candidate in admitting her to profession. The Bishop is also responsible for making sure the eremitical vocation itself is protected and nurtured under his supervision, so his own discernment is required for this reason as well.

There are certain situations in which a person might legitimately consider moving to another diocese in order to eventually request profession/consecration as a diocesan hermit, but I would not call this particular situation "diocese-shopping." (What you describe is different, and not particularly edifying.) In my own diocese there was a time when the Bishop determined he was not going to profess anyone as a diocesan hermit. He had good reasons for this, but it also meant that for more than 23 years there were not going to be any professions/consecrations under Canon 603, and as a result individuals suffered inordinate waits which had nothing to do with a mutual process of discernment. In such a case, where the decision is a blanket one and not guided by individual concerns, a person may therefore have very good reason for moving to another diocese that already has diocesan hermits, or which is open to having them given suitable candidates. However, in doing this the person needs to understand that each vocation is mutually discerned (something which is always true in ecclesial vocations) and there is no assurance that they will be admitted to vows and consecration. It should also be understood that a time is required to establish one's relationship with a parish, find and work with a spiritual director in this place, work out suitable employment and living arrangements, and similar things before one can even consider petitioning for profession here.

The question of going to an Abbot is even more complicated and questionable. My sense is that Abbots generally do NOT have the power to consecrate hermits under Canon 603. They can certainly govern their own monks and admit to vows, etc, but their authority is limited here. In a few countries I think there are still Abbots with jurisdiction over a larger geographical territory than their Abbey per se, and in these areas they might well have the same authority as diocesan Bishops, but these are exceptional cases. I cannot see such an Abbot admitting someone from another country or at least outside their jurisdiction to vows as a hermit, even if he had that authority. Instead I suspect he would simply counsel the person to work through their own diocesan Bishop. This is especially true given the monastic value of stability and the Benedictine sensitivity to what were called "gyrovagues" --- monks who moved from monastery to monastery whenever things got difficult or too challenging, for instance. (The Rule of Benedict is quite harsh with regard to this class of "monk".) To do otherwise would involve the Abbot in an act which, potentially at least, disparages legitimate authority and the ecclesial nature of the vocation. It would also be meaningless unless the one professed decided to remain in this abbot's territory because for one's vows to be valid in another diocese, one requires the input of the current bishop who assures the new bishop the hermit is a professed hermit in good standing, and the permission of new bishop (who agrees to accept the hermit's vows).

All of this does raise the questions you ask either explicitly or implicitly: is shopping around for someone who will profess one the right thing? Does it violate at least the value of stability? I would add to this, "does it demonstrate too individualistic an approach to vocation?", which is really part of the question of stability. I am completely sympathetic to a person who determines they feel called to diocesan eremitical life but whose diocese has decided, for whatever reason, simply not to profess ANYONE. In such a case, I don't think there is a real problem with going elsewhere to engage in a more honest process of discernment with another diocese ---so long as the person does not intend to automatically move to another diocese if the determination does not fall her way. But diocese-shopping is a different problem, and it tends to say the person is insensitive to the notion of ecclesial vocations or how they are discerned or lived out.

As noted, stability implies a commitment to live with others, to cast one's lot in with them so that all may come together to fullness of Life in Christ. It is a generous rather than selfish stance which is marked by the sense of what is best for the community, and not simply for oneself. For the diocesan hermit who does not live in community, stability may mean a commitment to a particular parish --- to its life, and the well-being of those who comprise it. It certainly includes such a commitment to the diocese itself --- even when things are not going as one likes. Legally, of course, the hermit is bound to a particular diocese unless and until she is dispensed and/or transfers to another diocese. She is bound by vow in obedience to the Bishop as legitimate superior --- and this includes being committed to mutual discernment in matters regarding this particular vocation. The vocation is highly individual but not individualistic. But even before one makes such a vow, she must demonstrate the capacity for such a commitment and the sensibilities and personal requirements it necessitates. Stability is a communal virtue oriented to the good of the community as a whole, and all ecclesial vocations which are mutually discerned emphasize the same communal sensitivity.

Stability is also a virtue of trust and patience. Eremitical life requires both in large amounts. Becoming a diocesan hermit rightly requires these virtues, for ordinarily it takes some time for dioceses to decide to profess people, and generally they will only profess those who have lived as hermits for some time (at least five years of supervised living is not an unusual number to hear from Bishops) before a person will be admitted even to temporary profession. Eremitical life itself is a function of time and grace. It is such an individual and disciplined vocation that growing sufficiently to be able to claim the label "hermit" takes time and patience. Becoming a person who lives "the silence of solitude" rather than simply with some silence and some solitude takes both time and grace. When it happens it is a gift to the person but more, it is a gift to the entire faith community, and for that reason a person who engages in diocesan Bishop/Abbot shopping just to get canonically consecrated is not demonstrating the right mindset or attitudes of heart either.

After all, one part of the witness the hermit gives to others is that some things (including, and perhaps especially, the fruition of the grace of God!) take time. Waiting (and especially waiting where we are, but without immediately visible results) is a skill we simply don't practice well in our society, but it is one we need; a hermit witnesses to this in a special way. This is true with regard to the everyday discipline and even tedium of the cell, and it is true with regard to the process of becoming a person of prayer, particularly as a diocesan hermit. So long as one is being dealt with expeditiously and in good faith, and the diocese is honest with her about the possibility of future profession, none of this process is a waste. All of the time spent waiting is spent becoming, growing, maturing as a hermit who will be able to take on the additional rights and responsibilities of a diocesan hermit --- or, really, any vocation which requires substantial personal and spiritual formation. Stability, even without a specific vow, is intrinsic to the life of the diocesan hermit so again, it is only right she demonstrates a capacity for stability before a diocese even considers professing her. I wonder if this capacity is demonstrated by someone who is driven by a "my way or the highway" approach --- which, unfortunately, is what a diocese/abbot shopper, a contemporary form of gyrovague, seems to symbolize.

Questions on Solitude, Occasions of Sin, etc.

[[Dear Sr. Laurel: I wonder if you could discuss at little bit on your blog the issue of what solitude means? Sometimes I think I have a hermit inclination, but I also fear it is just a desire to be away from people. Not a very loving thing. And too, it seems that since people seem to be my occassions (sic) of sin (gossip, envy, anger, hate) would being a hermit in order to avoid sin be an acceptable reason. I heard of a social worker at a nursing home who is a dedicated hermit, so I wonder how solitude works in a case like that. Thanks for your answer.]]

Hi there! Thanks for your questions. I have written a number of times about the nature of eremitical solitude as well as false and genuine solitude, so I would suggest you take a look at the labels in the column on the right. Look under solitude, false solitude, genuine solitude, etc. and you should find a number of posts which approach parts of your question. I will not repeat everything I have said there but I would like to address your questions about avoiding people, lack of charity, and avoiding the occasions of sin. I will also look briefly at your question re the hermit you mention and the requirement of solitude.

I think you should pay attention to what your heart tells you about avoiding people. From what you have written, it sounds like your deepest sense is that a desire to merely be away from people is not a legitimate desire and insufficient to justify eremitical solitude. I would generally agree. In eremitical solitude we must discover a profound love for others, and, in fact, live our lives for those others, or we are not talking about the same reality the Church is. It is also important to remember that every person requires solitude, sometimes even a great deal of it. The reasons may be therapeutic, or the solitude may be transitional, and so forth, but only very rarely will persons find this is a call to eremitical solitude. Finally, it is important to remember that traditionally people were allowed to pursue the eremitical life only after long experience in community. While this is not a strict requirement for Canon 603 profession today, the wisdom and life skills implied here are still essential. One needs to have learned to love others deeply and effectively before pursuing an eremitical calling. This implies an essential healing of one's own woundedness and a clear maturity in one's relationships with others.

While it is true that we are to avoid the near occasions of sin, it is the stuff we carry around within our own hearts which are the things which need attention. The passions you mention (that is, the distorting lenses which keep us from seeing people as God sees them --- envy, anger, hatred, perfectionism, hyper-criticism and the need for attention or belonging, etc, all of which can lead to gossip) would exist within you whether you were around people or not. Generally it is not people per se which are the causes of sin, but these passions or attitudes of the heart, and the woundedness or other personal issues which cause them. Were you (or anyone) to become a hermit in the mistaken notion that you were closing the door on "the world" or the "occasions of sin" these represent by avoiding people generally, you would find merely that you have closed the hermitage door and shut these real causes inside with you. This is one of the reasons I have written that "the world" is as much an inner reality as it is something outside us. My suggestion is that you find ways to work on the actual causes of the things which you have identified as problematical. You might want to consider working regularly with a spiritual director on these, for instance.

It is not clear to me whether you mean the person you referred to is a canonical hermit or not, but I will assume that is so and speak in generalities here. Diocesan hermits must be self-supporting and usually do need to work to do so. Some work part time outside the hermitage, but generally, we work from within the hermitage in ways which foster the eremitical life. Most Bishops will not profess hermits who need to work full time (I agree completely with this), and some will not profess people who must work outside the hermitage at all. If a hermit is already professed and they MUST work outside the hermitage for some reason, then ordinarily they will do so in a relatively solitary job which allows them to pray and generally maintain both an inner and an outer silence. For instance, one woman who desires to be a diocesan hermit cleans offices after hours. This does not conflict with her commitment to live a solitary life at all. Even so, her Bishop will not profess her. The situation you describe may or may not conflict with the demands of solitude. It may be part time, for instance, and be balanced by a fairly strict reclusion and contemplative praxis. If it is full time work, then I don't personally see how she can be said to be living an eremitical life, and I would question the wisdom and prudence of professing her. However, it may also be a VERY temporary situation and the person may be working towards a better arrangement which does not conflict with her vowed eremitical commitments.

Unfortunately, the desire for eremitical solitude, and even having discerned a completely genuine call to eremitical life is not the same as living an eremitical life and fulfilling the commitments required by Canon 603. Part of a living and vital call or vocation is the response and, as I have noted before, Canon 603 requires a life of 1) stricter separation from the world, 2) the silence of solitude, 3) assiduous prayer and penance, 4) the evangelical counsels, 5) faithfulness to a Rule of Life one composes oneself and 6) all of these elements lived under the supervision of one's Bishop for the salvation of the world. The Church is generally quite cautious about professing people under this relatively new canon, but occasionally in the past 25+ years it has been used to profess individuals who are not hermits at all as a kind of stopgap measure because there is no other canon available for the profession of individuals. In time, and with more genuine vocations and experience (not to mention people asking good questions like yours), this kind of abuse will hopefully decrease or cease altogether.

I hope this answer helps. If it confuses or raises other questions, please feel free to get back to me.

Stability Revisited

[[Dear Sister, does monastic stability mean [i.e., refer to] emotional stability? I thought it meant committing to staying in one place for life . . .. As a diocesan hermit do you vow stability? What I am trying to ask is if monks and nuns vow to remain within their monasteries, do hermits vow to remain in their dioceses? What happens if your Bishop changes and its not a good change for you, or your external circumstances become very difficult?]] (Redacted slightly)

I think these are excellent questions and they are reminiscent of a question I was asked on the podcast I did last month re whether or not I was able to choose my Bishop! You will notice I have edited out the quotation you included as unnecessary to my answer. The primary meaning of monastic stability does not refer to emotional stability, but there must be some appreciable degree of emotional stability in order to make a vow (or commitment) of stability. Further, stability should contribute to emotional maturity and balance. The primary meaning of stability in the Benedictine schema however, is, as you suggest, a commitment to remaining in a particular monastery or community for the rest of one's life. The basic idea is that one is committed to grow here as a person, to grow, that is, in Christ and to commit oneself to the growth in Christ of those with whom one lives as well. Relationships in Christ grow over time and stability allows this growth. It is also an instance of trust in God that God's love is sufficient for one in this place, and that human maturity can be achieved here. In some ways the parable of the soils reminds me of the importance and nature of stability. It does so because I trust in faith that even when the ground is or appears fallow, rocky, thorny, and relatively bereft of nutrients (note I said relatively), God's grace is sufficient to bring necessary transformation and growth.

Stability therefore has an external and an internal dimension, but it refers first of all to the commitment to grow with others, to cast one's lot in with theirs in faith and in Christ. It is the quintessentially incarnational value in some ways because it witnesses to Christ's own choice to be God-with-us. Charles Cummings, OCSO describes these dimensions as follows: [[ Stability is the promise to stay here with Christ and with these others, and to stay awake to support each other during the struggle. The interior aspect refers to the heart awakened to the needs and feelings of others, to the will and the word of God in our midst. The contrary attitude is to stay on in monastic [or eremitical] life with increasing hardness of heart and dullness of hearing, until the sparkle goes out of our eyes and we only hang around waiting for the evening paper.]] (Cummings, Monastic Practices, p 173.) So again, while emotional stability will assist in one's ability to make a commitment of stability, that is not its meaning in monastic terms.

Diocesan hermits do not usually vow stability, but it is possible, and, I personally think, it is quite important to write this monastic value into one's Rule. This is true because eremitical life is lived for others and (even in one's physical solitude) with others in the heart of the Church. Canon 603 summarizes this pro nobis character in the phrase "for the salvation of the world." For instance, I am committed to a particular parish within my diocese. Because some were concerned I would be assigned elsewhere after perpetual vows, I remind them that C 603 does not work like that, and I kid them that they are "stuck with me". But really, we are a community and we bring each other to fulfillment in Christ --- even though the majority of my life is spent in physical solitude. In other words, we love one another into wholeness as part of the "ministry of reconciliation" Paul says we are each entrusted with. I have not vowed stability but my Benedictine commitments, and the ecclesial nature of C 603 eremitical life, make me sensitive to the importance of this particular bond with my own parish.

Legally, of course, I AM bound to this diocese and could not live as a diocesan hermit elsewhere unless both Bishops (my own and the receiving Bishop) ratify this change. There are good reasons for making a change, but it must be considered that a particular diocese has discerned this vocation along with the hermit herself, admitted her to profession, and often done so when many other dioceses were not yet ready to accept Canon 603 hermits at all. In other words, in admitting me to perpetual profession my own diocese has risked something with regard to its own life, as well as my own, and it is my responsibility (and theirs) to honor this. I will do so so long as my vocation itself is not threatened in some way by remaining within this diocese and contributing to its life. From my own perspective then, remaining here is a piece of being responsible for the unfolding of this particular ecclesial vocation in the Church --- though, in certain instances, one could cogently argue that moving to another diocese could also be a way of breaking new ground for the vocation in general.



As for what happens if circumstances within the diocese (or parish) are difficult or I get a superior (Bishop) that is not a good fit for me, then, all of that would need to be decided on a case by case basis with more specifics to be weighed and values to be discerned. The situation would need to be pretty serious for me not to honor stability or to transfer that stability (and my vows) to another diocese. As noted above, the vocation itself would need to be threatened in some significant way for this to happen. Stability fosters and enhances genuine freedom; it does not hinder it because, as I have written often before, genuine freedom is the power to be who we are called to be within and even in spite of constraints and limitations. In another vein, I can envision something happening in my family where I might need to make a temporary transfer or something akin to exclaustration, for instance, in order to assist them, but I don't foresee this would be permanent. Difficult circumstances of themselves, however, would generally test and/or prove the vocation and foster further maturation in it --- not be an invitation to move elsewhere (that it could be a temptation is another matter).

That would be especially true if the difficulties were interpersonal or if they suggested or raised the question of my own need to get assistance or work through personal problems and immaturities that are a source of division or tension. After all, stability is a value which demands precisely this of the hermit (monk, nun, or oblate). At the very least stability would demand I try every reasonable step to resolve the difficulties, especially as they arise from my own personal "hangups" --- however personally demanding those steps might be. (Humility requires I be honest about my own role in the difficulties!) At the same time it is the relationships which grow from the soil of stability which support me in these efforts, just as it is my commitment to the life of others besides myself, and the eremitical tradition more generally, which does the same as a piece of this very same stability.

Anniversary of St Benedict's Death

Today would ordinarily be the Feast of Saint Benedict, for it is the anniversary of Benedict's death. The actual Feast was moved to July 11th because Lent always "obstructed" the celebration which is traditionally observed on the day the Saint "enters heaven"). Benedict was, without a doubt, one of the most influential men in the history of the Church. Benedictines, Camaldolese, Cistercians, and any number of other religious and, of course, lay oblates follow the 1500 year old Rule of Life he wrote for monks. Known (among other things) for its balance, its concern and for respect for individual gifts within community, for its strong accent on humility, and for the priority it gives to the Word of God in the Divine Office and Lectio Divina, this Rule serves literally hundreds of thousands of Benedictines today whether monks, nuns, hermits, married persons, dedicated singles, or other seekers of God. Indeed, Benedictines of whatever state of life are, by definition, seekers of God.

Benedict says in his Rule that all monastic life should have a Lenten character. He reminds us that this is a holy season in which we should look carefully at the integrity of our lives and get rid of any thoughtless compromises which may have crept into them. In this way each one of us "may have something beyond the normal obligations of monastic life to freely offer to the Lord with the joy of the Holy Spirit". (Chapter 49, RB) One Benedictine poet reflects on this chapter as follows. It seems a good way to celebrate both the day and the season:

SEARCH ME (Rachel M Srubas, Oblate, OSB)

Search me, penetrating Spirit,
Drag my depths for the sunken
accumulations of my life.
Retrieve it all:
the old, unhealed wounds,
the memories I've tried to keep
from you, who alone
can remedy and soothe.
Receive my sacrifice
of grudges, the sludge of unforgiveness,
the slights I horde like green pennies,
the pettiness I practice to protect myself
from pain. I offer you the worthless cache
of my spirit's cuts and bruises, the elaborate
self deceptions that have long outlived their use.
Take what you find in the sodden sea chest
of my mind, and show it all to me.
Let me see what I've submerged:
what I ought to salvage,
what it's time to purge.

Taken from Oblation, Meditations on St Benedict's Rule (Rachel is a Benedictine Oblate and Presbyterian clergywoman. She is affiliated with the monastery of the Benedictine Sisters of the Perpetual Adoration in Tucson, Arizona.)

Hermits and Vacations, A few Questions!

It is rather amazing to me but my post regarding a few days away from the hermitage triggered a number of disparate reactions. Some were quite positive and noted the similarity to retreat. (Had I called this very same period of days away retreat or even a home visit or something similar, I am sure there would have been no problem!) Others were glad for me and for the post itself, and, additionally, for the post on friendship that preceded that one. But there were a couple of reactions which were downright nasty, and one or two that were sarcastic (or perhaps only ironic?). One of the latter treated the combination of the terms "hermit" and "on vacation" as a kind of religious oxymoron, while comments took that term in the direction of other such "oxymorons", like "homocelibacy", for instance. One of the more downright nasty ones sent by email said the following: [[It was nice you had a good time at Tahoe with your friend and all, but is this really the right Lenten practice for a hermit? I mean really, a vacation? At the beginning [of] Lent and a time penance and fasting and all? . . . and you didn't even think about going to Mass on Ash Wednesday. [Sure seems] pretty hypocritical to me! Some hermit?]] The ungrounded assumptions marking the critical comments were as amazing as anything else.

I thought about how to respond to these kinds of things, and in fact IF I should respond. Generally, my sense is that defending or explaining my actions is silly and unnecessary. It could even serve to denigrate or taint the significance (and even the sacredness) and memory of the time I had away. So, to be clear, I have no intention of justifying my own actions or referring further or directly to my own time away. On the other hand, I also have to ask whether these reactions imply questions about hermit life or the state of Canon 603 vocations which should be addressed? Perhaps. For instance, there are questions associated with vacation generally which might be good ones to look at. Some further questions dealing with friendship might also be interesting to look at. The problem of stereotypes crops up again too. I need to think more about all of these. At this point, though, I merely want to raise some of these questions and some observations I personally associate with the notion of vacations.

After all, why do people take vacations? Why, in fact do any of us any recreation at all? Is it simply because our lives are so onerous and demanding of energy and focus that we need to escape it, or are there reasons which are more integral to living our lives with focus, intensity, joy, gratitude, and integrity? Does recreation serve to re-create, to renew, etc or is is really all about abdication of responsibility for who we are and what we are called to generally? On a more immediate or "micro" level, why do we rest our eyes when reading or watching TV, for instance? Why, when driving long distances, do we stop to get something to drink or to stretch our legs? Why is it that a person doing a longer period of contemplative prayer might need to stand and do a walking meditation after 40 minutes or so before returning to their sitting/kneeling posture to continue the prayer period? Why do all religious schedule time for recreation each day? Why do Carthusians take a long walk once a week where they have the chance to talk with one another and relax from the discipline of the cell? While I know these kinds of images could be multiplied many times over, my point is simply that these are important practices for one to function well as a limited and living being. They are necessary psychologically, physically, and spiritually. I suspect every reader would agree with me in this.

My own appreciation of the need for vacation comes from my sense that we each need to see reality occasionally from a new perspective --- a perspective which may allow one to see day to day life more clearly and prevent one from veering off the path altogether. Vacations give us each the chance to step out of our usual public roles and reclaim our more integral identity in case --- and to whatever extent --- there is any discrepancy between the two. They also do so in a somewhat different way than a retreat serves to do. After all, we each need a chance to step out of public roles occasionally to experience a kind of vulnerability and intimacy those roles may not allow. This is not a matter of dropping some sort of pretense (for filling a public role may not and should not be about pretense at all), but rather of relaxing boundaries which cannot and should not be relaxed publicly. Time away provides opportunities for renewal and growth -- growth of self, of relationships, and development of gifts which ordinary circumstance don't allow --- or at least do not allow in the same way. It also provides a chance to try different schedules, to see different scenery, try new activities, and to have experiences which enrich one's life generally. One of these, by the way, is an opportunity to pray in new ways --- ways one is not used to or particularly good at, perhaps. (For the hermit this may mean shared reflections!) And of course, such periods give us the chance to allow friendships the time and focused attention they deserve so they may continue to mature during periods of "unshared" solitude.

In any case, I actually think vacations are pretty serious things --- important times which can function as a servant of living well and with focus, discipline and integrity. Of course there are limits involved when a hermit (or anyone else, for that matter) takes a few days away --- but these are imposed by her identity which does not change. By the way, since it is unlikely that what I say will be convincing, perhaps the following from John Cassian's Conferences will help:

[[IT is said that the blessed John, while he was gently stroking a partridge with his hands suddenly saw a philosopher approaching him in the garb of a hunter, who was astonished that a man of so great fame and reputation should demean himself to such paltry and trivial amusements, and said: "Can you be that John, whose great and famous reputation attracted me also with the greatest desire for your acquaintance? Why then do you occupy yourself with such poor amusements?" To whom the blessed John: "What is it," said he, "that you are carrying in your hand?" The other replied: "a bow. "And why," said he, "do you not always carry it everywhere bent?" To whom the other replied: "It would not do, for the force of its stiffness would be relaxed by its being continually bent, and it would be lessened and destroyed, and when the time came for it to send stouter arrows after some beast, its stiffness would be lost by the excessive and continuous strain. and it would be impossible for the more powerful bolts to be shot." "And, my lad," said the blessed John, "do not let this slight and short relaxation of my mind disturb you, as unless it sometimes relieved and relaxed the rigour of its purpose by some recreation, the spirit would lose its spring owing to the unbroken strain, and would be unable when need required, implicitly to follow what was right."]] I think I am in good company when the Desert Fathers, in this case Abbot Abraham, write in this way. (cf, Conference of Abbot Abraham, chapt XXI, but cf. chapter XX of the same book which is also very helpful in this matter.)

Happy St Patrick's Day

All good wishes on this "high holy day" (well, High Irish Holy Day, anyway)! Of course, it does seem that everyone is Irish on this day, so I guess that makes it a universal high holy day! We are celebrating after Mass today with a little Irish soda bread and stuff (meaning coffee --- and not Irish coffee either!) It seemed to me that McGinley's poem captured the fun as well as the seriousness of this Saint and his day. Enjoy.

St Patrick the Missioner, by Phyllis McGinley


Saint Patrick was a preacher
With honey in his throat.
They say he could charm away
A miser's dearest pence;
Could coax a feathered creature
To leave her nesting note
And fly from many a farm away
To hear his eloquence.

No Irishman was Patrick
According to the story.
The speech of Britain clung to him
(Or maybe it was Wales).
But, ah, for curving rhet'ric,
Angelic oratory,
What man could match a tongue to him
Among the clashing Gaels!

Let Patrick meet a Pagan
In Antrim or Wicklow,
He'd talk to him so reachingly,
So vehement would pray,
That Cul or Neall or Reagan
Would fling aside his bow
And beg the saint beseechingly
To christen him that day.

He won the Necromancers,
The Bards, the country herds.
Chief Aengus rose and went with him
To bear his staff and bowl.
For such were all his answers
To disputatious words,
Who'd parry argument with him
Would end a shriven soul.

The angry Druids muttered
A curse upon his prayers.
The sought a spell for shattering
The marvels he had done.
But Patrick merely uttered
A better spell than theirs
And sent the Druids scattering
Like mist before the sun.

They vanished like the haze on
The plume of the fountain.
But still their scaly votaries
Were venomous at hand.
So three nights and days on
Tara's stony mountain
He thundered till those coteries
Of serpents fled the land.

Grown old but little meeker
At length he took his rest,
And centuries have listened, dumb,
To tales of his renown.
For Ireland loves a speaker
So loves Saint Patrick best:
The only man in Christendom
Has talked the Irish down.

First Sunday of Lent: We Must Walk this Road Alone

I was unable to post for Ash Wednesday because I was away for a few days with a friend at her congregation's house in Lake Tahoe. These few days of vacation were a gift in every way. Truly wonderful. There was a lot of time for our own prayer, reading, study, and work, but quite often we each did these things in the supportive presence of the other. Evenings we prayed together using the daily readings and then sharing Communion; afterward we ate dinner in front of the fire and spent time just talking. Dishes came next, and afterward we just flaked out --- still in front of the fire --- on either end of a very long (and sort of funky) curved sofa. We read quietly or talked some more until either or both of us were ready for bed. During the week we also sometimes went our own ways of course, my friend off snowshoeing or visiting a relative who lived nearby, I practicing violin or off on a walk (or taking a nap), for instance.

When I look back at the week, I have to characterize it as one of "shared solitude." I would guess that my friend, who is an apostolic religious, might call it one of "community." Anyone at all would call it friendship, and we would each be right. As with any friendship we shared our journeys with one another in many ways and on many different levels, but we also walked them alone. For me it was a time to recall and reflect on the solitude that is my vocation, and that such extended shared moments are necessarily relatively few and precious; but it was also a special reminder of both the communal dimension of true solitude and the solitary dimension of real community. Whether we live our lives in marriages, in apostolic or contemplative religious life, as dedicated singles, or as hermits, we must walk this road alone. To do so effectively requires friendships. One part of the incredible gift we give one another is to make our own journey well, and in a way which enriches the other when we come together. Another part of the gift we give each other is precisely the permission and courage to walk our individual roads alone -- but accompanied in a way which does not allow aloneness to degenerate into isolation or despair --- and also challenges to and empowers hope and integrity. It was wonderful to begin my own Lent in such a way.

For all those who read this blog, it is my sincerest prayer that your own Lenten journey may allow you the solitude and the community you require to live and grow as daughters and sons of God with integrity. We walk this road alone, but at the same time as integral and intimate members of the Body of Christ. May you grow in this paradox in whatever way you need to during this season of discipline (i.e., this period of special focus and instruction) --- and may God give you companions to support and challenge you on the way.

A Little about "Friending", Friendships, and Eremitical Custody of the Cell

[[Sister Laurel, do you have friends? Did you have to leave friends in order to become a hermit? How do you maintain friendships and embrace stricter separation from the world? Is it difficult to maintain balance in this?]]

Really excellent questions, especially the timing of them. If you remember, Friday's readings included one from Sirach which gave lots of sage advice on friendship. I was reflecting on the day's readings the evening before and I realized that in many ways friendships work the same as stricter separation from the world. That is, they provide a privileged, even holy, space where we can 1) be ourselves without the distorting lenses and props of "the world," 2) see ourselves as we are, and even 3) come to meet God. So, on Friday I shared some of my reflections at a communion service. One thing I noted was that genuine friendship involves a mutual commitment to the truth and life of the other (and to oneself). I also spoke a little about the vast difference between Facebook's new verb, "friending" and the reality of genuinely befriending or being a friend. What Sirach said several thousand years ago is true today: "let your acquaintances be many, but one in a thousand your confidant." Tragically, it seems that a lot of people don't know the difference between acquaintances and friends while others trivialize one of the greatest treasures in life --- true friends --- in other ways.

But, your questions were about my own life and friendships, especially as these relate to stricter separation from the world. So, to answer those, yes, I have friends, some very good ones in fact, and a number of others as well. I have Sister friends, friends from orchestra and music more generally, friends from the parish and town, several quite good ones from online (yes we have met in person), and friends from school (elementary through graduate school).

I did not have to leave friends in order to become a hermit, but partly that was because chronic illness had already caused a significant rupture in my ability to maintain relationships as I would have liked --- at least, that is, in terms of making just hanging out or regular (and predictable) contact really possible. It is the case, however, that hermits cannot simply call friends whenever they want, or just drop things to go out, nor even allow friends to drop in at any time --- or even very frequently (eremitical hospitality is a very high value even so and is in tension here). Beyond this there will be parts of the hermitage which are essentially or functionally cloistered. Hence, even without the effects of chronic illness, there will be a rupture in relationships (or at least the way these are lived out and maintained)! 

This is something that aspirants for Canon 603 profession don't always realize, and as a result, they spend time trying to build in (physical) solitude, (external) silence, and stricter separation from "worldly things" (whatever this means!) while maintaining life as it generally was prior to this. So, you are correct in inferring and implying in your questions that embracing eremitical life entails a real and substantial break with one's old life --- a break in which relationships will not remain unaffected. However, it is also true that friendships are important for human wholeness and I (and, I suspect, all hermits) try to keep in touch as is possible and healthy for their own eremitical lives. One technological advance that works well for me is the use of email; because of this friends can write when they want and allow me to get back to them when I can --- all without the ringing of phones, meshing of schedules, etc.

I suspect that a piece of your question about maintaining my balance is related to the idea that what is outside the hermitage is "the world" while that which is inside the hermitage is sacred. But this is emphatically not a healthy or effective way to approach the matter. It is not even accurate since the hermitage is very much a place where the hermit does battle with the world inside her own heart and mind. (This was a very large part of the what battling with demons was all about for the desert Fathers and Mothers.) Sometimes then, trips outside the hermitage are actually necessary because a part of my own heart (my personal center) is also "the world" and resistant to Christ. 

It is true that solitary prayer and lectio help a lot with the conversion of this dimension of my life, but so too do meetings and time with others. After all, it is possible to remain in the hermitage and, in the process, begin to lose sight of the concrete forms of growth one really needs to achieve. In fulltime solitude, one can mistakenly begin to justify a completely self-centered private project in superficial or inauthentic piety. Humility, for instance, can become a contrived and self-absorbed project. Achieving sainthood or citizenship in heaven and dismissing the world of space and time (rather than cooperating with God's work to make heaven (defined as life with and in God) interpenetrate this awesome creation), can become something similar.

On the other hand, a challenging (though loving) conversation with a friend, or an uncomfortable confrontation with another musician can point up one's self-absorption and pettiness in short order. The basic Christian requirement that we love another person concretely can unmask all pretensions to having grown significantly in the love of God or true holiness. Eremitical life has always been criticized for its lack of opportunities to love one's brothers and sisters in concrete ways. This is a criticism which MUST be taken seriously in one way and another. The bottom line for discernment is always what is the Spirit of wholeness and true charity summoning me to at this point? Mainly the answer will be, "to dwell in my cell where I learn "everything" I need to know," but some of the time the answer will be, "to spend time with my friends, peers, and acquaintances, so that I might learn to love all the better and share (the fruits of) this great journey with them in the way God wills."

Maintaining balance is not so hard once one realizes that one cannot simply continue as one once did. Penance (and the other essential elements of eremitical life) will likely mean giving up aspects of friendship one enjoyed (hanging around together, for instance, or being able to call someone most any time), and it will assuredly mean a commitment to custody of the cell as primary and foundational context of one's life. But once that is defined and maintained in a way which is integral and fundamentally life-giving, time and space for friendship can (and will actually need to) be worked out as well.

I hope this helps. As always, please get back to me with further questions or needs for clarification.

Purpose of Stricter Separation From the World

[Dear Sister, What is the purpose of "stricter separation from the world" in your life? You have mentioned it as an element of hermit life, but I really don't get it. The Sisters I know are deeply involved in this world and it seems to me it is what Christ was all about. Can you help me understand?]]

Great question! I have written a little about stricter separation from the world, especially what it does and doesn't mean, so I would invite you to check out labels leading to those articles for additional thoughts. But you are correct, I have not really written about the purpose of stricter separation, nor have I spoken explicitly about the validity of this approach in spirituality --- which does indeed seem rather different from Jesus' usual way of doing things. In fact, "stricter separation from the world" was not something I would have chosen myself without circumstances which led me to understand it differently than I did as a young Sister. As your own comment suggests, it hardly seems to comport with a Christian perspective which honors the incarnation and the sanctity of all creation in Christ. For me it always sounded selfish and lacking in charity --- not to mention in generosity!

It is important to remember that separation from the world means first of all separation from that which is resistant or uncongenial to Christ, and that it involves detachment from that which promises fulfillment, meaning, and hope apart from him and the God he mediates. This sense of the term "world" refers to anything which is untrue, distorted, resistant to life, to love, and to all the rest of the values which constitute life in God. But it is not God's good creation, therefore, from which we mainly separate ourselves. It is "the world" of falsehood, chaos, and meaninglessness, and this means that it is not something distinct existing merely outside of ourselves, but instead a reality which is intimately related to the darkness, woundedness, distortions, and sclerosis (hardness) of our own hearts.

Keeping this in mind, there are several reasons then for embracing stricter separation from the world. The first is that such separation distances us from the constant reinforcement of values, behaviors, expectations, and so forth which bombard us otherwise. Consider all the things we each see every day that tell us who we are and must be --- despite the fact that almost none of them are consistent with the values of the Kingdom of God! The second reason, however, has to do with allowing ourselves the space and time --- and the silence and solitude --- to meet ourselves without all the supports, props, and distractions of "the world." It is hard to see ourselves for who we really are otherwise. Once the props are down or removed we come to experience our own poverty. When we are not measuring (and in fact CANNOT measure) success, integrity, fruitfulness, etc., according to the terms constituting, "the world" we come face to face with what we are really all about. So the first part of stricter separation is all about reality checks. Conversion, after all, requires confrontation with truth.

The third and most fundamental reason for stricter separation from the world is to allow the space and time needed for a meeting with God. If our hearts (and so, our very selves) are, in part, darkened, distorted, sclerosed and untrue, they are also the place where God bears witness to himself and the truth of who we are. All the elements of the eremitical life, including stricter separation, are geared towards the meeting (and eventually, union) with God which verifies (makes true), heals, and brings to fullness of life. It is in this meeting that we learn how precious we are despite our very real human poverty, here that we learn how constant and secure God's love, here that we begin to have a sense of what we are really capable of and meant for. It is in this meeting with God that we come to know genuine freedom, come to experience an imperishable hope, and are commissioned to go out to others to summon them to something similar.

There is a fourth reason for stricter separation from the world then. We must step away from the distorted perspectives and values which constitute "the world" in order to affirm the deeper truth and beauty of the world around us. We come to know everything in God and that leads us to see with God's eyes. Hermits assume a marginal place so that they may also serve a prophetic function by speaking the truth into a situation in a way which affirms its deepest and truest reality. It will also summon to conversion. Stricter separation from "the world" allows us to love God's world into wholeness. It is a servant of true engagement and commitment. Stricter separation from "the world" is a tool for loving the whole of God's creation; it is neither escapist nor selfish and cannot be allowed to devolve into these.

Now, I suspect that your only objection to any of this would be, "But why a LIFE of stricter separation from the world?" Hermits witness to this basic dynamic and the need for the freedom that results from being the person God makes us to be. The hermit reminds us again and again then of the foundational relationship that grounds our being, and of the task of individuation it summons us to achieve. We are made for life with God. Separation from the world contributes to this in the life of every person at the same time it rejects enmeshment, and hermits say this particularly clearly with their lives.

I hope this helps. It doesn't answer every aspect but it is a beginning. Thanks again for a really great and challenging question. I enjoyed working on it!

Feast of St Peter Damian

Today is the feast of the Camaldolese Saint, Cardinal, and Doctor of the Church, St Peter Damian. Peter Damian is generally best known for his role in the Gregorian Reform. He fought Simony and worked tirelessly for the welfare of the church as a whole. Hermits know him best for a few of his letters, but especially #28, "Dominus Vobiscum". Written to Leo of Sitria, letter #28 explores the relation of the hermit to the whole church and speaks of a solitary as an ecclesiola, or little church. Damian had been asked if it was proper to recite lines like "The Lord Be With you" when the hermit was the only one present at liturgy. The result was this letter which explains how the church is wholly present in all of her members, both together and individually. He writes:

[[The Church of Christ is united in all her parts by the bond of love, so that she is both one in many members and mystically whole in each member. And so we see that the entire universal Church is correctly called the one and only bride of Christ, while each chosen soul, by virtue of the sacramental mysteries, is considered fully the Church. . . .From all the aforementioned it is clear that, because the whole Church can be found in one individual person and the Church itself is called a virgin, Holy Church is both one in all its members and complete in each of them. It is truly simple among many through the unity of faith and multiple in each individual through the bond of love and various charismatic gifts, because all are from one and all are one.]]

Because of this unity Damian notes that he sees no harm in a hermit alone in cell saying things which are said by the gathered Church. In this reflection Damian establishes the communal nature of the solitary vocation and forever condemns the notion that hermits are isolated persons. In the latter part of the letter Damian praises the eremitical life and writes an extended encomium on the nature of the cell. The images he uses are numerous and diverse; they clearly reflect extended time spent in solitude and his own awareness of all the ways the hermitage or cell have functioned in his own life and those of other hermits. Furnace, kiln, battlefield, storehouse, workshop, arena of spiritual combat, fort and defensive edifice, [place assisting the] death of vices and kindling of virtues, Jacob's ladder, golden road, etc --- all are touched on here.

Technology and the Eremitical Life: the Positive Side of Things

Well, I listened to some of the podcast I did a couple of weeks ago. (Fortunately a friend listened, said it was great and gave me a bit of courage to go ahead myself!) One of the questions Sisters Julie and Maxine posed was whether and how technology changed eremitical life. It was not a question I had thought much about, and not one I answered very well, but it is an important question and I want to give it another shot! Some readers of this blog have posed related questions, sometimes in positive terms, and more often in cynical ways because they doubt that technology can add much at all to a genuine eremitical vocation. After all, how can one observe stricter separation from the world and yet have and use a computer with internet access --- much less have a blog? Doesn't technology detract from authentic eremitical life? How could it not?

Fortunately, the answer I gave did mention the need for discipline in the use of technology and it also spoke of accessibility. These are crucial, of course, and I should have mentioned them, no doubt, but as I thought about what I was struggling towards in my answer (because it was a pretty incoherent and definitely a matter of muddling towards something!) I realized that one of the biggest, and certainly most positive differences for hermits is the way technology stresses and allows a sense of the hermit's place in the Church and world --- not just for the hermit herself, but for the Church and world as well. The presence of a computer, for instance, serves to symbolize the interconnectedness and legitimate interdependence of hermit/hermitage and church and world.

We often hear about hermits and contemplatives more generally "living at the heart of the church." One has a sense of this because to the degree one is in union with God one feels united to all that is precious to him as well. One learns in prayer that one really is part of a mystical body and related to all others within that body --- and outside it as well. This is the central truth of one's solitude --- that one is related to God and to all of God's creation in a way one might not be aware of otherwise. One is related in and through God, and related through time and space thusly. It is this experience of relatedness which which is primary for the hermit. Other experiences of relatedness remain important nonetheless.

And here is one place technology has really affected eremitical life. The hermit must find ways to relate to the Church and World while maintaining her solitude intact. Technology allows this. More, it becomes a symbol of the fact that the hermit does indeed live at the heart of the Church and serves both the Church and the world by maintaining the integrity of her eremitical life --- a solitary life with two poles or dimensions, the first that of separation and the second that of community. Like a cyberskete or virtual laura of diocesan hermits where hermits from around the world are linked to one another by electronic pathways, so too does the computer link the hermit with the world around her. Because the linkage is immediate, the sense of connection adds to the primary sense of relatedness in God. Additionally, for me anyway, there is an increased and more concrete sense that my life serves as a kind of leaven (good I hope!) in all of this.

Of course being connected in this way shapes my prayer and my heart in general. It is pretty much impossible to be accessible to and interact with others, answer questions, accept prayer requests, post reflections which are meant to be nourishing or helpful to others without finding that one grows in compassion at the same time. And one returns to the solitude of the cell affected by who one has met, and who one was for those people. The eremitical life is, as I said, a life lived alone with God for others. It is possible to lose sight of this "for others" dimension of things (we see this with self-identified hermits (or mystics) from time to time where being a hermit (or mystic) becomes a label for nothing more than glorified navel-gazing or a kind of pseudo spiritual-masturbation). But this is a danger for all hermits and the primary sense of being related to others in God must be tested and concretized in limited contact with actual people and real lives. Otherwise the observation that we are a contemplative presence at the heart of the Church, true though it is generally, can serve specifically as nothing more than a pious platitude which excuses selfishness and even some degree of misanthropy.

The idea that I can spend hours a day in complete solitude and then step into the next room where pressing a single key connects me to the world around me in a concrete and immediate way is still astounding. The notion that I am accessible to others in ways which are fruitful for them and for me (as well as for the eremitical vocation more generally) is equally astounding. But anchorites have always had windows open to both the altar and to the public space outside their anchorhold. In the 21st century technology (especially the computer and internet), like the windows of the anchorite's anchorhold does symbolize the truth of a life lived in the heart of the Church and linked to the whole world by God first of all, and then in other ways, including electronically.

It is certainly possible to speak favorably of technology -- as I have done here --- but there are significant caveats as well and I will need to say more about these. For instance, media changes us, whether we are careful with it or not; it changes our nervous systems, the way we process information, the degree to which we can truly listen or accept (or resist) silence and solitude. This was Marshall McLuhan's message and it is echoed, sharpened, and expanded on by Nicholas Carr in The Shallows, What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains. Sherry Turkle's work is also appropriate here with important books like The Second Self and Alone Together, Why we Expect More from Technology and Less from One Another.  Moreover, though I have spoken about the positive side of technology for the hermit, I am including a video of a talk on Thomas Merton's views of technology and their destructive effects on culture and humanity in case it is of some interest to you. It is done by Father Ezekiel Lotz.



P.S., one friend reminded me I did not mention the way technology allows the hermit to work from their hermitage in this post. She is correct, and it is a good point. I admit my mind here was on the answer I was searching for during the podcast when I hared off on the idea of accessibility, so perhaps I can say more about the more functional ways technology has affected the eremitical life in another post.