On Books and Hermits Writing in (or out of) their Hiddenness

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I guess it is kind of funny to be asking about books by hermits since they are supposed to be hermits separated from the world, but I am interested in reading about hermits' lives and things by hermits. Do you have any suggestions for good books? ]]

Hi. This is a great question and it is the first time anyone has ever asked it, so thanks a lot! There is a lot of good writing about the hermit life available (well, lots more than there was just a few years ago anyway!). Let me start with the newest stuff out there --- or at least fairly new stuff. Regarding books by hermits, I think the best book available on the nature of eremitical life is The Eremitic Life by Cornelius Wencel. Fr Wencel is a Camaldolese, but from a different congregation than I am associated with. He is a Monte Corona Camaldolese whose "founder" (besides Romuald) is Paul Giustiniani, a Camaldolese reformer; also unlike the OSB Cam, this congregation (Er Cam) has hermits only --- there is no cenobitical expression. This is not a "how to" book, nor a description of day to day living, but an extended reflection on the heart of the life and vocation.

Another book I would highly recommend and which written by a hermit in Wales is, A Simplified Life by Sister Verena Schiller. Sister writes beautifully, and gently introduces the reader to the daily life of a hermit by her own reflections on the landscape and history of her place. As she explores the place, she comes to live the eremitical life more and more deeply. It is a remarkable illustration of solitary stability as growth in depth (and deep truth). Sister Schiller is a member of the Episcopal (Anglican) Sisters of the Holy Name. Her work is studded with poetry and is laced with really good scriptural theology. For instance, she quotes Mary Lou Kowanacki, OSB (who is quoting Ryokan) on one essential and tension-filled dynamic of the eremitic life from Between Two Souls:

Some would say it is running away, others a running towards
This is the Way he travelled to flee the world;
This is the Way he travelled to return to the world.
I, too, come and go along this Sacred Path
That bridges life and death
And traverses illusion. (p.146)

Two other good books on the solitary life are, The Power of Solitude by Annemarie Kidder. Kidder deals with all the basic questions raised by solitude in a world dominated by "noise and numbers." (This includes friendship and mystical experiences and many other realities of a life focused "on God Alone".) It is a book I would recommend to hermits or to any serious Christian --- actually anyone trying to build in and negotiate the tensions involved in embracing solitude. The second book is Silent Dwellers, Embracing the Solitary Life, by Barbara Errako Taylor. While I disagreed with some aspects of this book (especially Erakko's understanding of the reason for and dynamic behind celibacy --- consecrated or otherwise) --- I thought she did a terrific job with things like the quest for simplicity, for instance.

Lastly for now, and certainly not least, I would recommend Sister Jeremy Hall's, Silence, Solitude, Simplicity, A Hermit's Love Affair With a Noisy, Crowded, and Complicated World. One of the most significant parts of this book is Sister Jeremy's description of the desert in desert spirituality as "A Place of Meeting." Another is her identification of Silence as "A reverence for speech". As with all authentic hermits, Sister Jeremy is deeply attuned to the reality of paradox and often pairs such things as "simplicity and inner riches", "silence and the word", "solitude and community", etc because these point to the various dynamics and tensions a hermit has to negotiate and embody in her life. One thing that comes through clearly in Sister Jeremy's work is the paradoxical fruitfulness of desert existence. At the same time, the subtitle of this book encapsulates the same paradox found in Wencel's book, namely, that hermits live a separation from the world not because they hate or reject God's creation, but in order to love it better and more honestly. 

By the way, ordinarily I would suggest several books by Thomas Merton regarding eremitical life, but I think those could wait until later. For now let me note merely the essay "Notes for a Philosophy of Solitude" in Disputed Questions. It is the heart of Merton's theology of eremitical life. Beyond this Merton often speaks directly to the first sentence of your own question --- the idea that it is strange to look to hermits to write about the essentially hidden life of a hermit. This raises the question of the interesting paradox that Merton lived and dealt with daily, that I myself deal with somewhat similarly because of this blog, for instance, and which Sister Verena also refers to in her book (A Simplified Life): [[ The very term hermit or solitary implies a reclusiveness, a living apart, a certain hiddenness, a life not to be exposed to the public gaze or written about. Yet it is through the writings of hermits and the faithful records of those who have visited them, dating back as far as the fourth and fifth centuries when the first Christan hermits began their lives in the Egyptian and Syrian deserts, that we owe much of their lives and spiritual insights.]] In its own way Cornelius Wencel's book deals with this same tension and dynamic, as does Sister Kowanacki in the passage cited above, etc.

I hope this helps as a start

Kohlberg's stages, Ego, and the Desire for Renown

Sister I read the following online. It was written last September and I wondered if you could comment on it since you have written on the issue yourself.

[[As for someone who keeps tabs on such matters has informed, there is still the niggling over what hermits call themselves or not, whether a Catholic hermit or a whobody hermit, whether Jesus' Catholic hermit or Canon Law's Catholic Hermit. Whether a priest can call a hermit a Catholic hermit, or whether a Bishop must call a hermit a Catholic hermit.

Of course, ultimately and presently, it does not matter. Such niggling only brings the nigglers to the imprisonment of Kohlberg's fourth stage (or even down to the second) of moral development. To a hermit of Christ, a Catholic hermit without identity, it does not matter. It does not matter to pew Catholics, nor to non-Catholics. And it will never matter to anyone but those few who are caught up in identity and need for renown in the visible Church.]]

Yes, I have read the comment, but as you note, it was a while ago. In fact I also responded to a question regarding another post from the same blog just a month later so I am certainly familiar with it. The author has an interesting and, to my mind anyway, somewhat cynical perspective on diocesan eremitical life. The question from the same time period I already responded to had to do with visibility as a betrayal of the authentic eremitical vocation. In answering that I referred to the essential hiddenness of the hermit life. I also clarified the source of Canon 603 and how both Canon Law and the Catechism impact the life of the canonical hermit --- for they do so quite in different ways. At this point I should note that the blogger in question is no longer adding posts to this blog, and claims to have moved beyond the designations "hermit" or "Catholic hermit" --- though of course the older posts are still extant and apparently still being read. Because of that, I suppose I will continue to respond to occasional questions regarding older posts.

Kohlberg's Stages Misunderstood

In dealing with Kohlberg's stages of moral development, it is probably important to clarify that, at least as I understand the matter, when one moves to another stage of moral development, elements of the earlier stages do not simply drop away. Instead, they are transcended through integration into a more comprehensive and less one-sided or undifferentiated stage of moral decision-making. So, for instance, a person who went through a stage in moral development where law was their driving concern (and we all do this) may still allude to law in making moral decisions without becoming legalistic, or to the place of authority (4th stage development) without subscribing (or regressing) to a "law and order" way of justifying moral behavior and choices. We see this in people who respect the law and authority but who are capable of creative responses to moral situations law is too general to address. That person might well refer to law or legitimate authority, but be quite far from being driven by a "law-and-order" mentality or legalism of any kind. In fact, it is a sign of relative maturity that in their creative responses to reality they can allow law and authority a proper place.

Thus, one may be well-anchored in what Kohlberg identifies as the post-conventional or more mature and less self-centered stages of justifying moral decisions and still point out that law is important. The same with genuine authority. My own position that Canon Law serves love in various ways (to the extent this is actually true and allowed to be true) is an example of this kind of justification I think. What is preeminently important in determining what is moral (and truly human) here is charity, but the person who loves well does not simply or generally jettison law or authority in the process. Neither does a theologian who refers to authority in the Church, or to the rightful (pastoral!) application of canon law, automatically regress to earlier stages of moral development and motivation in so doing. The opposite is more likely true if the emphasis is truly on the pastoral. On the other hand, the person who dismisses the rightful place of law and authority in life may well be regressing to a more infantile and individualistic "anything goes so long as it serves me" stage of moral decision making.

So Who Cares?

The second point the poster makes is that who is or is not a Catholic hermit does not matter to anyone except those "few who are caught up in identity and need for renown in the visible Church." I suspect the author meant ego rather than identity (for existing in Christ is a matter of significant identity, though not of ego) but I can only respond to what she said. Of course I disagree, and I do so because words have meaning and the meaning of words (and the lives and other realities they describe) is important to people. As I have noted before, there is a thing called "truth in advertising" and if one says they are a Catholic Hermit, others have the right to expect that they are using the term in the way the Catholic Church uses it and have accepted all the rights and commensurate obligations which are linked to it. That is only fair and only charitable to others who seek to understand and trust the reality to which the term points. It is also only fair to the word itself, for to use it any way one wishes is to empty the word of meaning and make it untrustworthy or unbelievable. As I have noted before, a word that comes to mean anything at all simultaneously comes to mean nothing whatsoever.

This blog has noted a number of times that the term Catholic Hermit indicates a public vocation accepted and lived out in the name of the Church, and perforce, it therefore means that others necessarily have a right to certain expectations of the one so designated. They do not necessarily have the right to those same expectations when the person is a privately dedicated hermit. Again, while this emphatically does not mean that the lay hermit is less a hermit or lives the life less well than the diocesan hermit, it does mean that 1) the diocesan hermit is responsible to the Church and in a formal and objective way that differs from the more private responsibility of the lay hermit, and 2) this results in expectations on the part of the faithful which are their right by virtue of the hermit's public profession and consecration.

To argue that speaking of the import of canonical standing or the designation "Catholic Hermit" and all these things mean for the hermit and others is "niggling" or that people in the pew don't care who is called these things is naive, and perhaps disingenuous. If a person showed up at Mass and introduced herself as a "Catholic Hermit", but later on made it clear that she really only meant she was Catholic and living a relatively pious life alone, one doesn't have to think hard to see what the result would be. It would be especially problematical if, for instance, that person calling themselves a hermit proved to have serious emotional difficulties and used the term hermit to justify social isolation, an inability to love people, or a spirituality which was so individualistic as to interfere with one's capacity to participate in or build community. In all these instances the person would be furthering destructive stereotypes of the term "hermit" --- something which is, unfortunately, not uncommon. (Remember the post about Tom Leppard.) It would, if qualified as the life of a "Catholic Hermit", be especially detrimental to a general understanding of the vocation the Church has only recognized in Canon Law for the first time beginning just 28 years ago.

Of course, it is absolutely true that most people are unlikely to care which Canon prohibits the use of the term "Catholic" for individuals and groups except as appropriate authority allows, but they will surely care whether a person IS what they claim to be or not, especially if they are not using the terms in the same sense the Church does more generally. The above examples of stereotypes aside, consider a person showing up at a parish in a habit, or using the title Sister or Brother (and expecting others to do likewise in their regard) because by baptism we are all sisters and brothers to one another. Would a parish congregation really not care that the title and garb were self-assumed? Would it really not matter that the person has no authority to do this, no formation, no legitimate supervision, no formal and binding commitment in law, and apparently, no real concern for or responsibility to the people (or local church and community) to whom they are presenting themselves? I have to say my own parish and diocese would certainly care. In any case, even if they failed to care would this be a cogent argument? Do we really want to say, "No one really cares about the truth here, so it doesn't matter"?

On A Desire For Renown

Finally, a note regarding identity and being caught up in the need for renown. First, as noted above, ego and identity are very different things and should not be confused with one another. As Christians we have a unique identity in the world. It is a significant identity, and one which is a gift to us and to the rest of the church and world whenever it is lived with integrity. To be clear about our own identity can be a way of honoring the Spirit who graces us and forms us in this identity. To indicate that one is a diocesan or "Catholic" Hermit is a way of being clear that the Holy Spirit is working in the Church this way, and in fact, in one's own life specifically. Since this work is essentially redemptive and a source of hope to many, it is no small matter! And if this is true, then admitting one's identity in the Church is a piece of humbly accepting oneself and glorifying God. It need have nothing whatsoever to do with a desire for personal renown, so one ought to be wary of judging motives on the basis of external conditions alone.

For instance, I have a blog and this last year did a podcast. Did (or do) I do those for personal renown, or because these serve the Church and this vocation by helping people become aware of it and transcend some of the stereotypes which still attach to it? The external reality (the blog, the podcast) is the same, but the motives cannot be seen merely by looking to the external reality. The same is true of habit, title, and post-nomial initials. Did I adopt and do I use these because of ego and a desire for renown, or is there a more legitimate reason? As the blogger you quote also says, "The habit (externals) does not make the person." True enough but this truth cuts two ways: it may refer to the arrogant or hypocritical religious (or hermit) in a habit, of course, but it may also refer to the person who is smug and condescending in his "hiddenness" or exterior obscurity while judging the other on appearances. The simple fact is that most likely there are elements of both stellar motives and less stellar ones present in any person's divided, ambivalent heart. Once again, last Sunday's parable of the weeds and wheat is appropriate here, I think. When dealing with the motives of another, we must allow these to stand and grow alongside one another for fear of uprooting (or in this case, mis-judging) what is of God. We should trust the person to deal with her own ambivalence or ambiguity over time. Judgment is rightly and ultimately left to "God and his angels."

Regarding hermits and renown more generally though, it should be recalled that they have, at times, been drawn kicking and screaming (or the inner equivalent of that) --- but obedient nonetheless --- into the ecclesiastical and even political limelight, sometimes becoming Cardinals and even Popes in the process. One hardly considers they agreed to this as part of a hunger or drive for renown (much less a regression to a more primitive stage of moral decision-making defined in terms of self-interest and benefit). My mind goes back to Peter Damian (Camaldolese) who was one such hermit-Cardinal and Doctor of the Church. He was a reformer and prodigious writer, battling against simony and other problems through open letters and pamphlets. Was he accepting of the title Cardinal (etc.) because he was hungry for renown? Did he get involved in questions of reform and renewal out of mere self-interest? A prudent or judicious person would hardly suggest this without real evidence!

More Questions on Loneliness

[[Sister Laurel, I read what you wrote about loneliness recently. Thank you. Can you explain what you mean by malignant loneliness and why you describe it that way?...]]

I really appreciate the questions that come my way because of this blog. As you say, recently someone asked about loneliness and what I do if and when I feel lonely. I wrote that I sometimes feel lonely when I have something in particular to share (something I have read, heard, which came up in prayer, etc). I have not stopped thinking about loneliness and the distinctions I drew. This weekend I have been reading Jaycee Dugard's, memoirs of her time in captivity after her abduction. For these reasons and others your questions are very timely. While Ms Dugard's story is difficult in many ways, it is also amazing, particularly for those who are interested in isolation or physical solitude, the redemption of isolation --- especially as a process of healing and maturation --- or for the incredible capacity of the human being to be sustained by love and the hope of love --- even love which is distant or barely remembered.

One of the things Ms Dugard describes so well though is what I would call malignant loneliness. She describes this as a dominant feeling throughout her story, and at one point she says the following. [[Lonely, that's how I feel. Lonely and incomplete.]] It seems to me that Jaycee puts her finger on the reason hermits do not generally feel a kind of malignant loneliness, a complicated loneliness which includes a desperate need to fill the hole, a kind of solitariness which can be anxious, depressed, indiscriminately searching, open even to illegitimate affirmation and validation, and subject to all the kinds of distraction and anesthesia our culture offers, etc. Hermits do not always feel God's presence, nor do they need to. They may certainly feel a longing for God which is profound, but even so, they do feel an essential completion by God's love and this really foundational love results in a sense of essential wholeness which prevents loneliness from becoming a malignant reality.

When I used the term malignant loneliness the first time a while back (two or so years ago for A Nun's Life and some questions Sister Julie asked me), I wasn't completely clear why I chose that term either so your question is excellent. In thinking about all this recently, it became freshly clear to me that some forms of loneliness stem from deficiencies which touch every aspect of our lives. They have tendrils which leave nothing unaffected, and their roots are so deep that nothing seems to be able to touch them and ease the situation. In using the term malignant I think I had in mind something like a cancer which metastasizes aggressively or has sticky tendrils like a glioma and leaves nothing untouched. Jaycee Dugard lived and wrote about the same kind of thing in her book, The Lost Life.

At the same time, there is not simply deficiency but potentiality involved in all this. We feel the lack of something because we are made for it and/or have experienced it in the past. We feel its lack because we are indeed incomplete without it. Jaycee Dugard's tremendous loneliness was/is not only a result of the loss of certain people in her life, but comes from the loss of all kinds of relationships which would allow her to create a real future and share her life. {Prescinding for the moment from the extended abuse, torture, and dehumanization she experienced) her own loneliness and personal incompleteness is not merely the result of being snatched from those that really love her, but resulted from being taken from a context in which her life made sense and could be freely given to others. She was not allowed to be known by her own name, was never called by that name, and she was not even allowed to let her daughters know she was their mother!! (Again, and despite my caution regarding calling many things that are something else, "loneliness", I think it is important to realize that loneliness can name a kind of frustration or yearning that results from the inability or lack of opportunity to share ourselves and contribute as profoundly as we are called to do in and to the lives of others.) This may be part of a truly malignant loneliness (as it was in Ms Dugard's life) or it may be part of a simple loneliness at being unable to share something meaningful with a friend (as it can be with a hermit who chooses physical solitude).

I hope this helps answer your questions.

Solemnity of St Benedict: "Unlearning Possession"

Benedict's Rule was a humane development of Rules already in existence. In it he truly sought to put down "nothing harsh, nothing burdensome." Today's section of chapter 33 of the Rule of St Benedict focuses on private possessions. The monk depends entirely on what the Abbot/Abbess allows (another section of the daily reading from the Rule makes it clear that the Abbot/Abbess is to make sure their subjects have what they need!) Everything in the monastery is held in common, as was the case in the early Church described in Acts. Today, in a world where consumerism means borrowing from the future of those who follow us, and robbing the very life of the planet, this lesson is one from which we can all benefit. Benedictine Oblate, Rachel M Srubas reflects on the necessary attitude we all need to cultivate, living as we do in the household of God:


UNLEARNING POSSESSION

Neither deprivation nor excess,
poverty nor privilege,
in your household.
Even the sheets on "my" bed,
the water flowing from the shower head,
belong to us all and to none of us
but you, who entrust everything to our use.

When I was a toddler,
I seized on the covetous power
of "mine."
But faithfulness requires the slow
unlearning of possession:
to do more than say to a neighbor,
"what's mine is yours."
Remind me what's "mine"
is on loan from you,
and teach me to practice sacred economics:
meeting needs, breaking even, making do.

From, Oblation, Meditations of St Benedict's Rule

My prayers for and very best wishes to my Sisters and Brothers in the Benedictine family on this Solemnity of St Benedict! Special greetings to the Camaldolese Sisters at Transfiguration Monastery, the monks at Incarnation Monastery in Berkeley, and New Camaldoli in Big Sur, the Trappistine Sisters at Redwoods Monastery in Whitethorn, CA, and all those at Bishop's Ranch (Healdsburg, CA) participating in the Benedictine Experience Retreat.

And finally, congratu-lations and deepest thanks to Sister Donald Corcoran, OSB Cam, prioress of Transfig-uration Monastery on this, the 50th anniversary of her monastic vows. The gift of self and revelation of God's own goodness represented by such a commitment is a blessing worthy of profound thanksgiving.

(Sister Laurel, Er Dio, and Sister Donald, OSB Cam, at Benedictine Experience Retreat, 2009)

Also, a friend sent me a couple of pictures of Sister Donald, et al, from the Benedictine Experience Retreat on the Feast of St Benedict (Bishop's Ranch, Summer 2011). Thanks Dorothy!

(Sister Donald Corcoran and Father Robert Hale, OSB Cam at celebration of Sister Donald's 50 year Jubilee with champagne (wine?) and strawberry shortcake.





Sister Donald sprinkling assembly outside chapel

"One True Word" by James Carroll

While cleaning out some old books I came across one with a poem-prayer I first came to love many years ago now; it was, I think, when I was in initial formation in the Franciscans. It was a timely discovery given today's Gospel re seed and soils and speaks to so many of the concerns I have written about here and elsewhere: the nature of persons as language events and also called to be the Word made Flesh in some sense, the New Testament idea of parrhesia or bold speech which is authentically human and inspired and empowered by God, the overwhelming saturation of our world with meaningless speech which dehumanizes us and trivializes reality; (here I think especially of the posts I recently wrote about the distinction between "friending" and befriending, as well as the fact that cell phones have become extensions of many persons' bodies and a symbol of the trivial language-events we can allow our own lives to become). There is nothing essentially new in any of this however, as James Carroll makes clear. The poem is from his book, Tender of Wishes, The Prayers of a Young Priest.

One True Word

"They were filled and began to speak in other tongues" (Acts 2:5)

We lean, tentative, anxious, together.
We summon courage and small trust,
and with dried voices dare to speak,
to unpierce ourselves, unhide the secret
with carefully chosen and just possible words.
We whisper together, we utter,
but the words are easier than we are
and they run loud and meaningless,
wind through dry grass, shambles of hope,
shod-iron feet through splintered glass.
Words even great and pregnant ones,
have grown up or shrunk or frozen
into yet another obstacle to union of sorts.
Words are yet another sentence, condemnation,
telling us dry and again how alone we are.
It is nearly time for silence always.
We are cheap words longing to be still.
We are, alternately, silence dreaming
of being spoken word however trite.
What we need, in a word, is a word
that goes both ways and can bear much use.

II

God, there is, we believe, one word
which never was trite or cheapened,
which survives the eternal attempt
to lock it into our predictable vocabulary.
That word is your Son, we believe,
spoken by You from all ever until now,
near us in the flesh of Jesus Christ.
Forgive us our making a lie of Him
on our bloody, blaspheming lips.
Speak him again and with both edges
cutting quick through our thick
and cloudy and wordy confusion.
Open our ears to hear him again,
the one pure sound, the one true word,
the one utterance in whom we, men, meet.
Quicken our tongues to speak him yet,
our one hope here for saying something
true and wise, with love and some sense.

A Question on Catechism Paragraphs 920 and 921

Sister Laurel, what you write about the following texts is different from what this other hermit writes about it. Could you explain why that is?

[[What constitutes a consecrated Catholic hermit? The Church is specific in sheer simplicity: "920 Without always professing the three evangelical counsels publicly, hermits 'devote their life to the praise of God and salvation of the world through a stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude and assiduous prayer and penance.' "921 They manifest to everyone the interior aspect of the mystery of the Church, that is, personal intimacy with Christ. Hidden from the eyes of men, the life of the hermit is a silent preaching of the Lord, to whom he has surrendered his life simply because he is everything to him. Here is a particular call to find in the desert, in the thick of spiritual battle, the glory of the Crucified One." . . .So it is, too, with the reality of what is a consecrated hermit. It is written out in the Church's Catechism, in two clear-cut, line-item paragraphs. The [specific person] is advised to not debate, question, or reinterpret. Best to succinctly and simply: read; ponder, accept. And live it. ]]

Sure, though I have written about this before so please check out related posts in the labels' list on the right. The two paragraphs taken from the Catechism come from a section called "The Consecrated Life." They  are very brief statements about essentials and therefore presume all the other things the Church teaches about consecrated life to contextualize and understand them properly. Part of that is that initiation into the consecrated state of life is achieved via a public commitment received in the name of the Church. It requires admittance into a stable state of life. State of life here refers to something like lay, consecrated, or ordained states. It does not refer to eremitical life itself.

So, for instance, the glossary at the back of the Catechism reads in part, "Consecrated Life: A permanent state of life recognized by the church, entered freely in response to the call of Christ to perfection and characterized by the profession of the evangelical counsels. . ." Note that private vows do not lead to a permanent state of life. Consecration is defined in the same glossary as, "The dedication of a thing or person to divine service by a prayer or blessing. . ." Thus, the prayer of consecration in Mass in which bread and wine are transformed and set aside as holy, or the prayer of consecration in rites of profession which complements the dedication of the vows. (In the instance of hermits, this prayer is prayed by the Bishop with hands outstretched over the hermit at the rite of perpetual profession.)

Thus, and contrary to what I have written before about these paragraphs including a reference to lay hermits, they do not refer to private vows or private commitments despite the phrase, "without always professing the evangelical counsels publicly." Here, the accent is not on publicly (vs privately), but instead on the possibility of using "other sacred bonds" than the three vows. Diocesan hermits (consecrated solitary hermits) may use a form of commitment other than vows, and are the only form of consecrated life who may do so. This somewhat confusing and clumsy sentence (at least in English!) is a reference to this fact because the definition of Consecrated life refers specifically to the profession of evangelical counsels with vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The exception in the case of diocesan hermits needed to be explicitly mentioned, so the sentence needs to be understood as saying something like, "Diocesan hermits always make a public commitment, but they do not always use vows to do that".

The mistake made by the person you quoted is the mistake of failing to contextualize what s/he read, and treating these paragraphs as though they can be read apart from the established ecclesial definitions of consecrated life, consecration, and the Church's own theology of these things. They cannot, and to do so is to engage in not a simple but a simplistic reading. My own failure in reading these paragraphs was similar: I was confused by the reference to "publicly" and thinking it was used to contrast with "privately." While I was aware Canon 603 says, "or other sacred bonds" (besides vows) I had never heard of a case and thought vows were, at least customarily the way every diocesan hermit went. It took a conversation with a canonist friend to sort that out. In any case, for these reasons I thought these paragraphs also referred to lay hermits (in a somewhat confused way given the heading of the section, The Consecrated Life). I no longer think so, although I think these paragraphs should be edifying to lay hermits.

P.S, the Catechism definition of consecrated life is generally correct (if truncated and minimally helpful to actual hermits) but Canons 603 and 604 both represent exceptions. Canon 603 (diocesan hermits) represents an exception because they may use "other sacred bonds" besides vows. Canon 604 (consecrated virgins) represents an exception because there are no vows at all. Still, they both represent public commitments with initiation into the consecrated state.

More On Spiritualizing "Stricter Separation from the World"

In an earlier post (June 25,2011), I explained that I had not intended to spiritualize the essential element in Canon 603 known as "stricter separation from the world." In the first place I was trying to counter a rather common misconception in eremitical life, and especially the eremitical life of beginners, namely, that "the world" can be hypostatized or treated as a wholly separate reality external to the hermitage. When this occurs one hears hermits (or monastics more generally) speaking as though the hermitage or monastery is not an instance of the world, while condemning everything outside the cell, hermitage, or monastery as "worldly". We have all heard monastics say, "When I left the world" --- speaking about entering the monastery --- or, "Brother so and so has returned to the world" --- speaking about leaving monastic life, etc. Only when very carefully explained can these statements cease to mislead us into thinking of "out there" -- the everyday world -- as "the world."

But, in Scripture and in theological reflection on everyday spatio-temporal reality, "the world" is a polyvalent or tensive symbol --- a symbol which has several meanings which create tension between them --- which includes God's good creation as well as that which resists Christ. It also refers to the sinful human heart which is equally ambiguous. Because of this, the notion that one can simply close the monastery or hermitage door on "the world" is false, a distortion of reality, and in affirming this fundamental untruth one actually makes of the hermitage an outpost of that which is resistant to Christ. Because of this, I stressed that the term "Stricter separation from the world," as Canon 603 uses the term, was primarily about the state of the individual heart and its conversion, and only secondarily (though necessarily!) about physical separation from significant aspects of reality.

Abdicating our Responsibility to Discern the Incarnate God's Presence in Everyday Life

There were two other reasons I stressed the spiritual dimension of this term as well. Both are related to hypostatizing "the world" and treating it as "that which is outside the hermitage or monastery." In the first one, what we find is that when one forgets about the ambiguity of reality and embraces such an unnuanced perspective, one abdicates one's responsibility to discern what is of God and what is not. One rejects everything as "the world" in the pejorative sense of the term, (i.e., that which is resistant to Christ) when in fact much of what one is thus rejecting is good, beautiful, true, and more than capable of mediating God's presence and summoning to holiness. This affects the soundness of one's spirituality on every level. It fosters dangerous judgments about what is possible outside the monastery (for instance that holiness is not possible out in the everyday world, that lay life is an inferior form of vocation, that the ordinary affairs of people are necessarily distractions from genuinely spiritual life and divide the human heart, etc, etc).

It can lead to notions of contemplative life which are insensitive to and unappreciative of God's presence in significant ways; it can lead to notions of spirituality rooted in an anti-pleasure principle and overly dependent on pain and other forms of unpleasantness (if food is unpalatable eat it, if pleasant avoid it; if something is beautiful eschew it, if it is gratifying to the other senses, reject it, etc, etc). This all seems to me to be counter to the truth of the Incarnation: namely, that God comes to us in everyday reality and asks us to recognize and affirm him there rather than being scandalized by his presence in life's ordinariness.

The Parable of the Weeds and the Wheat Applied to this Situation

It also seems to me that Jesus' parable of the weeds and the wheat speaks to this situation very pointedly. We must not precipitously and simply attempt to pull up the weeds as though they are clearly evident and wholly separate from the wheat. In fact, this is simply not so, and we cannot see clearly enough to do this. Discernment and patience are necessary. We must live with ambiguity because otherwise we will certainly throw out some plants that actually witness to and mediate the presence of God to nourish us. More, we must allow God to clarify our own vision and hearts through all of this. Stricter physical separation from much of the ambiguity is necessary, but the hermit must always remember that "the world" Canon 603 inveighs against is a function first of all of the human heart, and it is this which is the source of our world's ambiguity.

Let me give one example of the way Jesus' parable might work with regard to conversation with others, for instance. I have spoken with a person who wishes to be a hermit who refuses to speak of anything but "spiritual matters" with those she meets. What qualifies as spiritual is God, Christ, the Saints, spiritual books (19th C or earlier --- nothing contemporary!), monastic values, etc. All other topics have been torn out at the roots, so to speak. The result, of course, is not only a loss of friends, but the very matter in and through which God reveals himself. Everything is abstracted from the concrete, and thus, rendered empty. For instance, while one can speak of love, hope, holiness, etc, one cannot speak of the nitty gritty situations, relationships, and daily struggles which give rise to these as concerns, questions, problems, etc.

Karl Barth once referred to religious discourse of this sort, especially in terms of preaching the Gospel without either listening or responding to the every day lives and questions of those to whom the preacher is speaking. It is akin to throwing a rock into a lake. It profoundly disturbs the surface of the pool and immediately sinks to the bottom; it makes ripples, the ripples spread, die away quickly, and everything is left as before --- except that now religion seems to be extraneous and even irrelevant to every day life while the Gospel is seen as incapable of speaking in an effective way to people who use non-religious language. But of course, this is what the incarnation never allows us to do. In Christ our God uses a new and scandalous form of discourse; he comes to us PERSONALLY in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. He comes to understand our situation intimately from the inside out and he redeems us in the same way. He loves, not abstractly, but concretely. The Word he speaks to us is his own self, but it addresses our deepest needs and desires, in whatever way and language we use to pose them. If we forget this, we may well forget ourselves to listen to the person's own spiritual language, classify it as "the world," and tear up the wheat along with the weeds, long before it is able to produce fruit. This is a serious problem with those who tend to hypostatize the term "the world" as this person does.

Abdicating our Responsibility to Speak Prophetically to our World by Hypostatizing "the World"

The second problem I wanted to deal with is intimately related to this. It had to do with the responsibility of the hermit to speak prophetically to the world outside the hermitage. While the prophet certainly summons to repentance, more fundamentally that repentance is a way of affirming the deeper truth and potential of reality. It is meant to recall the world which has moved from God, and therefore to fragmentation, incompleteness, and bondage,  and draw it into true freedom in God. The hermit separates herself from the world to some extent so that she may see it clearly, and address it honestly from a perspective of relative spiritual freedom from entanglements and enmeshment in that which is resistant to Christ or contrary to true dependence upon God. The desert is not so much a destination as it is a context which allows the hermit to achieve freedom and then to summon the rest of reality to the same freedom. Hermits journey for many years in the desert, but the purpose is not only the purification of the hermit's own heart, but a return in some appropriate way to that which was left behind so that it can be loved to wholeness and reminded of its truest destiny.

When the hermit hypostatizes the world so that everything outside the hermitage is treated as though it is sinful, false, distorted, and estranged from God without also being ambiguous and so, true, beautiful, valuable, and capable of mediating God's very self to us, there ceases to be any reason to return to that world with the message of the Kingdom. We are unable to return to the world with the Gospel message and a purified heart which allows us to call the world to fulfillment not only because we treated "the world" as that which was outside us, but because we refused to see its potentialities --- the fact that it is ALSO God's good creation meant to be reconciled and brought to fulfillment as the new heaven and earth spoken of in Scripture.

The hermit does not turn her back on "the world." She attends to "the world" with and in the love of God, first as she discovers that love in the conflicted and fragmented space of her own heart, her own personal center, and then, by finding ways to address "the world" as it exists outside of herself with the hope she comes to know and embody in the silence of solitude. She learns to see what is real, what is true, what is beautiful, what is holy in everyday reality. She learns to see not only the distortion and untruth but also the potential hidden in that reality just as she learned to discern and accept the distortions and potential in her own heart. In so doing, God is allowed to bring reality to perfection and fullness.

So, again, I had no intention of spiritualizing c 603's requirement of stricter separation from the world. Physical separation is essential, but again it is meant to serve what is primary: the personal healing and sanctification of the hermit's own self, a freeing from enmeshment in "the world" precisely so she may serve reality in sympathetic detachment and prophetic presence. Once again, many thanks to the diocesan hermit/friend who raised the question!

Fourth of July (Reprise)

Only one thought occurs to me on this day, and that is that Christians have much to tell America about the nature of true freedom, even while they are grateful for a country which allows them the liberty to practice their faith pretty much as they wish and need. Too often today Freedom is thought of as the ability to do anything we want. It is the quintessential value of the narcissist. And yet, within Christian thought and praxis freedom is the power to be the persons we are called to be. It is the direct counterpart of Divine sovereignty and is other-centered. I believe our founding fathers had a keen sense of this, but today, it is a sense Americans often lack. Those of us who celebrate the freedom of Christians can help recover a sense of this necessary value by embracing it more authentically ourselves.

Meanwhile, All good wishes for the birthday of our Nation! Celebrate well in genuine Freedom!!

Hermits and Loneliness

[[Sister Laurel, I have read your post on loneliness and the eremitic lifestyle and it was focused on whether or not loneliness might indicate a calling to be a hermit. I understand what you said in the post about loneliness possibly being an indicator that one should look inward for the cause of the loneliness. My question pertains to loneliness once you have become a hermit. I imagine that you at times feel lonely and I am interested in learning about what you do when you feel that way.]]

Thanks for the question. Yes, I do occasionally feel lonely, but as I have explained in the past it is rarely a malignant kind of loneliness. Instead, it usually happens when I experience something in prayer I would like to share, or read something I am excited about and would likewise desire to share and explore with someone, but cannot. One of the most powerful experiences I have had this year is that of several days away from the hermitage where, in the mornings I sat writing while another Sister did her own work at the other end of the table. We rarely spoke, but we were free to do so, and the experience of shared solitude was simply excellent! I was surprised at the period of transition which occurred when I returned to the hermitage --- brief though it was. I felt loneliness then. I am happy in solitude, no doubt about it, but at the same time I honor and appreciate experiences which remind me of what it means to live otherwise.

Loneliness, despite what some non-hermits say about hermits never feeling such, is simply a normal reaction to the absence of human company, and this can mean the absence of various degrees or types of intimacy. Often this means missing someone in particular --- someone who shares the same values, for instance, who invariably makes me laugh --- especially at myself, who struggles with prayer in some of the same ways I do, who challenges me theologically and personally, or whose smile I simply miss seeing, etc. As often it means wondering how someone is doing and bringing them to prayer. However, it can also include transitional times when prayer moves from being consoling to times when it is dry, for instance, or when I feel the need for a simple hug so that even though I am certain of God's presence, I can also feel loneliness.

Simple loneliness does not need anything done about it ordinarily --- except to note it, perhaps, and to bring it to prayer. I try to use it as an occasion to thank God for whatever led to it (the thing read or experienced, for instance, or the people who are present in my life whom I miss --- or my vocation itself, of course). With simple loneliness, I maintain my horarium, pray as I am called, write, study, work, and recreate as usual. I do note in my journal the feeling and the context of the experience; I also record anything I know about what triggered it or might be part of it in case down the line this turns out to be something more than simple loneliness, or in case a pattern emerges (recurrent periods of loneliness triggered by the same situation or occurring in the same context, for instance). Sometimes this will lead immediately to more personal (inner) work than anticipated, but most often it does not. Sometimes I will send out an email to a friend or write them a letter. This can mean setting up some time in the next couple of weeks or so when we can see each other or just spend some time talking. If we meet it will usually be for Mass, coffee, a walk, even dinner, but it can (as a clear exception) mean a day out to see an exhibit at a museum, or an afternoon out to hear a concert, etc. Most often though, it means just touching base enough to help me get in touch with the gratitude I feel for this person as gift, and really, for the whole of my life.

But some "loneliness" is more than "simple loneliness". It can include anxiety, depression, profound sadness and senses of isolation, meaninglessness, a need for affirmation or validation, self-pity, anger, etc. I suspect that many times what we call loneliness is not really that at all, but some of these other things along with whatever is their source. Too often we call this loneliness because there is simply no one around to distract us from it, and no way to fill the need, for instance. But many times being with someone is not the solution here, and so, loneliness is not what we are actually dealing with --- at least not fundamentally. In any case, when loneliness hangs in or is complicated by any of the above feelings then, at least for the hermit, it demands attention with the help of one's director. One really needs to talk things over with someone who knows one well, and can see things from a fresh perspective. This is especially true if one has been journaling right along and using all the tools one has at one's disposal, but is still suffering. I rarely experience this kind of loneliness at this stage of my life and associate it with times of serious illness, grief, loss, unmet needs for love, etc, all of which need to be worked through. Except in the last case (unmet needs which produce a kind of deep and aching loneliness or emptiness) I do not call it loneliness even though my need (or at least my desire) for company is exacerbated at these times --- but I know people who do call it loneliness, so I address it here.

Simple loneliness, to some extent, is, as I have already implied, a natural even penitential part of the hermit's life. Again, I disagree with those people who say hermits (should) never feel loneliness. Usually though, as you can tell from my comments, this is not a problematical reality. It comes from the fact that the hermit loves and is loved by others, as well as from the fact that she has not yet achieved complete union with God. It can, if attended to mindfully, strengthen prayer and one's gratitude towards God for all his gifts --- of which friends and the love and compassion which comes as a part of friendship are a particularly privileged instance. As you can also tell, I don't tend to equate simple loneliness with a general unhappiness which seems to me to be a more global and problematical reality. Instead, simple loneliness seems to me to be a dimension of the love and richness which marks one's life. Should it seem to be a piece of a more general unhappiness, or become an omnipresent sign of deprivation or narrowing of life, then I would agree this is not something that should be happening to a hermit, and it requires special attention.

I hope this helps. If not, or if it raises more questions, please feel free to get back to me. Again, thanks for the question!

On Spiritualizing "Stricter Separation From the World"

I received the following excellent comments from a friend and diocesan hermit about something I wrote on "stricter separation from the world." They have been edited to make them more general in application, but raise a very good point on which I have been apparently unclear. I want to try to remedy that in this post.

[[Regarding “greater separation from the world”, I’ve read on your blog about separation from what isn’t Christ-like, was that it? More a spiritual separation/renunciation from whatever is worldly. I still believe that physical separation is essential because interpretations can lead to [a] situation [where one really isn't a hermit at all]. [In an apostolic sister's life] . . . she prays and serves God. What could be considered unworldly about that? . . . Emphasizing physical separation and restricted social contact [is necessary to understand the eremitical life]. I think we need to be careful about spiritualizing the separation. It’s also a practical, physical separation which is a sacrifice in relation to apostolate, work and visits.]]

First of all, let me say I agree completely with your comments. It was not my intention to spiritualize the essential element in Canon 603 which requires "stricter separation from the world." However, I did want to indicate that this element has a primarily spiritual sense even for canonists, and thus too for Canon 603. I see this as a different matter than spiritualizing the term. In that context, "the world" is defined as "that which is not redeemed or open to the salvific action of Christ" (cf A Handbook on Canons 573-746, "Norms. . ." O'Hara, p 33) and I would add that it is also, "that which promises fulfillment or completion apart from him."   In particular, the first problem I was trying to confront which created the context for some of my posts, was the situation involving a person who simply closes the hermitage door on everything outside this place and concludes that they have thus achieved stricter separation from the world. This is theologically and spiritually naive at best, and simply dishonest and even sacrilegious at worst. What is far more likely in such a situation is that the would-be hermit has shut the world securely in with her while the hermitage has become an outpost of "the world" of illusions, falsehood, and distortion in the process.

After all, in the act of closing the "hermitage" door in this specific way, one leaves one's own heart unchanged (and, as long as one embraces this perspective, unchangeable) to the extent she embraces falsehood in a foundational way! But the heart is precisely the first thing which requires attention. In its divisions, distortions, woundedness, and enmeshment, it is not only an instance of "the world," it is the source of all the rest of the distortion and illusion which represents "the world" more generally. In my view stricter separation from the world, then, is a way of speaking first of all about conversion of heart and the freedom from enmeshment in the the structures, behaviors, values, distorted relationships, etc, of reality which is resistant to Christ. It is a goal of eremitical life more than it is a means to that, though it will also necessarily include the means to that goal.

In monastic life this goal is usually referred to as conversatio morum --- a continuing conversion of self where one's heart is made whole and undivided and one's whole self is therefore made true and holy. I think this is truly the heart of the element of SSW referred to in the Canon. But, as just noted, SSW will also include and require the hermit to embrace the means to this goal. How could she not? One cannot allow oneself to be wholly embraced by God and embrace him in return if one cannot even hear his voice clearly. Far less can one do so if one is seduced by and entangled in other realities and will not or cannot let go of those. Neither (more about this in another post) can one see reality clearly for its essential goodness and potential, nor address it in a prophetic way if one is wholly enmeshed in it. One MUST step apart physically as well. Just as physical solitude is necessary to achieve the eremitical goal of the silence OF solitude, so too does the achievement of purity of heart and authentic humanity require physical separation from the ambiguities, distortions, and untruths of reality more generally. (This will mean physical separation even from much of what is good and holy as well. Partly this is a function of the ambiguity of reality; partly it is because the hermit witnesses to the priority of the reality and relationship which is the source and ground of every other reality and relationship, the One thing necessary, namely, God alone.)

But at the same time, just as we know that physical solitude per se is NOT the true goal of the Canon nor of eremitical life, neither is physical separation the goal or primary meaning of the term "stricter separation from the world." The problem on one hand is not to mistake the means (physical separation) for the goal (personal conversion and healing) nor on the other hand, as you say so well, to believe one can reach one's goal (personal conversion and union with God) by jettisoning essential means (physical separation). In the first instance the "hermitage" might well simply be the isolated residence of the unconverted misanthrope or failure at life --- and we know if it is to be worthy of the name "hermitage" it must not be this! In the second instance, we will find people completely immersed in the activities, relationships, structures, and rhythms of the world who simply call themselves "hermits". They will empty the terms hermitage and hermit of meaning because while they live a different kind of spirituality in the midst of everyday reality, they may merely consider the term eremitical "a metaphor for (their) lives" rather than a literal state and vocation to be lived out.

There were a couple of related problems I was also dealing with in regard to authentic versus false eremitical life in the posts which gave the impression I was spiritualizing stricter separation from the world and I will bring those up in another post. In the meantime I am very grateful for the comments which provided this opportunity to clarify my earlier remarks, and more importantly, the nature of eremitical separation from the world.

Should Christians generally "Try to blend in?" How about hermits?

[[Dear Sister, a blogger wrote about a passage from the Office of Readings recently from a letter to Diognetus. In applying what s/he read, s/he said, [[And others, including [name], have pondered the externals in our lives in Christ. What is written approximately 18 centuries ago, seems sound. It runs counter to the ways of some in our time who dress as religious of the past several centuries, or who live their lives being noticed and in opposition to the life and culture of their environment.

This reading promotes invaluable reflection. By blending in, and the religious life remaining hidden, we give Christ the glory of His due by being Christians living in the world, yet not of it. Is this another way of describing the life of the temporal Catholic world, the visible Church, the social Church, the noticed and distinctively unusual lives--outlandish, if truthful--of some religious solitaries and groups? We may then place this externally-noticed way beside the option of remaining in Christ in the mystery of His life among us and of us subsumed in His life: the mystical Catholic world, the interior Church, the spiritual world.]] (emphasis added) I wonder if you agree with this reading of the passage? Should Christians "Blend in"? How about hermits or solitaries?]]

I suppose the main problem I see with this analysis is that the Letter to Diognetus (at least the passage from the Office of Readings from about a month ago,@ p 840 of the Easter Season breviary) says nothing about Christians blending in, but rather is concerned with the exceptional and pervasive ways Christians stand out despite their normality. While the author makes clear that it is true they do not stand out because of what they wear for everyday things, or what they eat, or because they flout civil laws, fall into ecstasies in the midst of communal celebrations, or buy into a spirituality that is so other-worldly they cannot work for their livelihoods, it is also true that at every turn they are distinguished by the extraordinariness of their lives. They marry and have children, but they protect and honor those children; they do not expose them to the elements or to wild animals and therefore to death when they are unwanted or sickly. They love all men, with a preference for the weak and poor but are universally persecuted, etc. This too is something the author makes very clear.

Remaining in Christ and living in the world means that one will be noticed in one way and another --- at least it means that in "the world" which is essentially contrary and resistant to Christ. It is not necessarily contrary to [[...the option of remaining in Christ in the mystery of His life among us and of us subsumed in His life.]] This is so because life in Christ does not necessarily mean "hidden," nor does it mean working to blend in. Especially it does not mean buying wholeheartedly into one's culture, or refusing to be counter cultural! Emphatically not !!! (If one's culture is basically contrary and resistant to Christ then one has to be counter cultural in significant ways.) But the reason one is noticed, is not due to externals pointing to a disordered or fanatical life. Christianity is eccentric in the technical ("out of the center") sense of the word, not in the common sense of being crazy or bizarre. The author to the letter to Diognetus is concerned with establishing first of all how very normal in every way Christian life is, and for that reason how truly inexplicable the hatred with which Christians are met at every turn. He is absolutely not concerned with arguing that Christians should "blend in" so they are completely indistinguishable from anyone else.

The Paradox the Author is Dealing With

Instead, he wants people to know that Christians are good, even exemplary citizens with a higher moral code than many, and that they serve much as a soul to a body in their presence within their societies. At the same time the author says no one can explain the hatred experienced from both Jews and Greeks (i.e., every non-Christian), he points out that there is a clear reason for the hatred Christians experience; namely, Christians serve to judge the world and its disorder by placing restrictions on its activities just as the soul places a restriction on the body's pleasures. They are very much contrary to aspects of the dominant culture. Thus, the author of the letter is walking the fine line of paradox and indicating that precisely where Christians live completely normal, loving lives, they also live the most exceptional and provocative lives. They are like the soul in the body or like leaven in a loaf of bread, and to some extent they will be indistinguishable, but at the same time, they will stand out because their presence imparts a character to the whole which is undoubted and undeniable. The Christian's religious life is hidden (in the sense that s/he does not ordinarily stand on street corners praying in public, etc,) but it is also supremely perceptible in the way s/he lives.

The General Truth Today

In today's world it remains the case that Christians should be the soul of the body, that we should be primarily distinguishable because of God's love of us, and our love for God and one another. We must remain in Christ precisely so we serve as yeast for the dough, light in the darkness, salt or savor in the food of life, and so forth. This "being in the world but not of it" is the very essence of the lay vocation. But within Christianity, there are specific vocations which are defined even more intensely in terms of their counter cultural nature. The solitary or eremitical vocations the blogger refers to are among these, and these lives, unlike the lay vocation, are characterized precisely by their stricter separation from the world. They are meant to be counter cultural in almost every way I can think of. Is this unusual? Yes, and it is meant to be. Is it noticed? Yes --- even when hermits are unavailable to speak about their lives, this vocation is noticed in a general way.

Hermits live lives of essential hiddenness and stricter separation from the world in part so they may address the world in the same way prophets of old addressed their cultures and world --- to call these to their truest reality, to challenge them to conversion and fulfillment in Christ. A conscious (or self-conscious!) attempt to blend in, which seems to me to include something other than an honest or transparent living out of one's Christianity in the normal incarnational way life in Christ dictates, is very far from such a vocation. Understanding, empathy, compassion, and prophetic presence which are rooted in the Hermit's honest and loving solidarity with the humanity and situation of others are another matter. The hermit must be a convincing example of the latter without falling into the disingenuousness of the former. When Paul spoke of becoming all things to all people, for instance, I think this is what he was speaking of.

Solidarity and Christ-consciousness versus Estrangement and Self-Consciousness

What I am trying to say is there is a vast difference between fitting in because in one's basic Christianity one knows on a deep level how very like every other person one is, and therefore, truly belonging in any circumstance or set of circumstances, and trying to "blend in." The first is motivated by humility and carried along by one's genuine love of others. The second is too self-conscious and seems to me to not be motivated by humility or an honest love of others. Abba Motius of the Desert Fathers says it this way, "For this is humility: to see yourself to be the same as the rest." The first is marked by the freedom of the Christian, the second is marked by its lack. The first can and will go anywhere, but will go there as a Christian (including as a Christian hermit) with all the commitments and differences that ALSO entails, the second is less about being present to and for others, and is more concerned with being indistinguishable or blending in --- self-conscious motives, both of them. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

In my town we have a small restaurant, a converted house, which is a favorite of everyone from every strata of our generally (but not universally) affluent society. On any given weekday morning one may find, especially at some of the larger tables which seat ten or more, the mayor sitting elbow to elbow with the guy who picks up her garbage, the single mother who needs government to pay better attention to her needs, the businessman who regularly leaves a $50 tip, the college student who eats there for free because the owner doesn't want her sick or starving, along with the owner of one of the local (and national) sport franchises, et al. Conversations are not strained, nor are they meant to presume on others. They are simply human. Everyone belongs, no one tries to "blend in." If the college student tried to dress up, or the mayor to dress down, or the sanitation worker to do something similar, etc, then something crucial and crucially honest to this place would have been lost due to self-consciousness and a sense of difference, whether of superiority or inferiority. Residents of our town don't go here to blend in; instead we go here to relate and to be ourselves in a diverse environment. This restaurant is a gift to the community, and it allows the kind of presence the Christian is supposed to cultivate I think. When I eat here (unfortunately, very rarely these days!) I simply am who I am as well --- both in my more fundamental solidarity with others as well as in what distinguishes me. I think this is really what the author of the letter to Diognetus was talking about.

I hope this helps.

The Call to Discipleship: Talking the Talk AND Walking the Walk

Written Reflection for the End of the Parish School Year based on John 21:15-19:

How many of you have ever done something wrong, or hurt someone in a way which made you feel like you would or could never be forgiven or trusted again? Let me give you an example of how this happened in the life of a Sister friend of mine. Mary was about 12 or 13 years old and her parents had asked her to watch her younger sister.

She had other things she might have preferred to be doing, but she said sure, and the two of them went out to play. While Mary's little sister was swinging on a swing Mary looked away for just a moment and, in just that tiny space of time, her sister fell off the swing and struck her head on the concrete. It seemed like there was a lot of blood, and she was clearly hurt in a way a band-aid alone wouldn't fix! Mary's parents came out when Mary called. They did not yell or scold, but neither was there time to talk. Instead they whisked M's sister away to the hospital leaving Mary home alone with her fears and thoughts. You can imagine what was going on inside her: "She's going to die! People who are hurt badly enough to go to the hospital die!!", "Will mom and dad ever forgive me? How can they ever trust me again?" "Do I love my Sister? How could I let something like this happen to someone I really love??" "If she dies, my life will be all over!"

I am sure that Peter is probably feeling and thinking some of these same things in today's Gospel. Remember that the last time we hear much about Peter in John's Gospel before this it is around the time of the Last Supper, and Jesus' following arrest, trial and execution. Always full of bluster, and never really in touch with his own weaknesses, Peter is protesting that he will never betray Jesus, that he will follow him anywhere; that he'll even die for him if necessary, and when soldiers step forward to arrest Jesus, it is Peter who rushes forward to lop the ear off of one of them! But once Jesus is taken away, Peter is a different guy altogether. He skulks around the temple precincts trying to see what is happening to Jesus, but when people ask him three separate times if he is Jesus' disciple, he denies it. And when Jesus is crucified, Peter is off hiding with most of the other disciples so he won't also be arrested and killed (only the beloved disciple remained with Jesus, Mary, and the women). Peter could talk the talk, but, when left to himself, when Jesus was gone, he wasn't strong or courageous enough to walk the walk.

So, although Jesus has appeared several times to the disciples, this is the first time John tells us that he and Peter will talk face to face. Imagine the questions and concerns roiling or boiling around inside Peter's heart! "What does he want? What will he say?" "Does he want to tell me how awful my failure was, and how disappointed in me he was/is?" Does he want to explain how unworthy I am to be his disciple and a leader in his Church?" Will he tell me to just forget it! Oh I hope he doesn't say just forget it --- that would hurt even worse. He knows I can't do that, and besides it would feel like he was dismissing me as a person! I really hope he doesn't do that!" "Does he know how much I really do love him?" "Will he forgive me? Can he ever trust me again???

And Jesus, who knows Peter better than Peter knows himself asks him three times, one for each denial, "Do you love me Peter?" And Peter answers, quieter, humbler now, "You know Lord, that I love you!" Jesus' questions are not a test in the usual way we use that word. The only right answer is the truth. These questions remind Peter of his denials and all the fear, self-centeredness, need for self-preservation and failure that drove them, but they also help to put him in touch with something which is deeper and truer, something which is more real than these. They help Peter to get in touch with his deeper self, the one God calls him to be, the one who is capable of generosity and empathy and compassion, and who really does love Jesus and others more than himself. Each time Peter answers from this deeper place, Jesus entrusts him with a charge or responsibility: "Feed my Lambs, Tend my lambs, Feed my Sheep!" He doesn't shame Peter. Neither does he treat his denials and failure as though they never happened. They were real and they mark him the same as Jesus' wounds mark his own hands, feet, and side, But Jesus empowers him to move beyond them. This is how Jesus forgives. This is how he creates a future for us.

My friend's parents did something very similar. When they returned home from the hospital with Mary's sister, stitched up and bandaged, they let Mary touch her, and kiss her. Then they asked her a couple of questions: "Did you do the best you could do?" Do you love your sister?" And Mary answered yes to both questions, but with the second one she added: "I thought I loved her but now, after all this, I know how much I REALLY do love her!!" Then her parents reminded her that they were going to need to go away in two more weekends, and they wondered if Mary would be okay to take care of her sister for them. Once again she answered yes, yes to her love, yes to her parents and sister, yes to the future.

Here at the end of the school year we should hear the same questions that Peter did. Do you love me?? Perhaps we have not been always been great friends. Maybe there have been times we have been thoughtless, or selfish, or insensitive to the needs of our friends. Perhaps we have not been the best classmates. Maybe we have bullied others or laughed at them because in some way they are different than we are. Maybe we formed exclusive cliques and shut others out, or otherwise acted or spoke at the expense of another's dignity. Perhaps we have not been the best sons and daughters and failed to listen to or respect our parents. But as we hear the same questions, so too should we hear the same commissioning Peter heard: Feed my Sheep! Jesus knows we are better than this; that deep down we are simply awesome, and so, as he did with Peter, he calls us all to grow into that --- and some of us he just plain calls to grow up --- to take care of the least and the weakest as he does us --- the least and the weakest.

At the end of the Gospel today Jesus tells Peter that when he was younger he could go anywhere he liked, but now that he is older, someone will gird or dress him and lead him where he would rather not go. Today, you sit here in your Summer clothes, all set to have a great vacation from school. Your teachers, your pastor, and all the parish staff all hope you will have a terrific time, full of fun and a different kind of learning. But come September, we will ask you to put your St P's uniforms back on, and leave your younger, less mature selves behind while you to step up to even greater challenges, even more responsibility, and show us your better, truer selves. We know you are capable of this. We trust that you are each capable of fulfilling Jesus' charge to "Feed my Lambs, Tend my Sheep. Feed my Sheep." We know that you will return to us ready and eager not only to talk the talk but to walk the walk of the community leaders and disciples of Christ you truly are.

On Penance and Penitential Living

[[Sr. Laurel, I see that you and other hermits often speak of living lives of prayer and penance. Can you explain more about what penance means to you: why we do it; what it's for; what it consists of. What are right and wrong attitudes toward penitential practices? I have read what you have said in several places about the meaning of suffering and of chronic illness. Is there a place within those circumstances where penance functions?]]

As usual, great questions. The question of penance, especially on inappropriate or false forms of penance has come up here before so please check some of the labels in the column to the right. Still, it has been some time since I have posted on this so let me reiterate some of it, and also some of what I have written in my own Rule. As you well note, diocesan hermits are indeed bound to a life of "assiduous prayer and penance" so one hopes they have a fair idea of what this term of Canon 603 means! I will make this a pretty general answer, so if it raises more specific questions you can get back to me with those.

Prayer and Penance are Linked

I think the first thing one must realize is that prayer and penance are intimately linked; they are related to one another in an integral and profound way. Penance functions to support and facilitate prayer, while prayer, and especially a life of prayer, requires penance if it is to be authentic and achieve depth or breadth in one's life. In other words, we undertake penance so that we may become people of prayer, and in fact, that we may become instances of prayer in our world. In my Rule I define penance as, "Any practice which assists in achieving, regularizing, integrating, deepening and extending our openness and responsiveness to God through the deprivation and death of the false self and attention to the genuine needs and growth of our true selves in Christ. While prayer corresponds, in part, to those deep moments of victory God achieves within me, and includes my grateful response, penance is that Christian and more extended form of disciplined "festivity" implicating that victory in the whole of life, and preparing for the fulfillment which is to be accomplished only with the coming of the Kingdom in fullness."

In the eremitical life, every hermit finds that solitude itself and all that entails is a primary form of penance --- even if temperamentally they are introverts. Solitude means not merely physical aloneness. It also means being alone WITH God and FOR others. Stricter separation from the world (i.e., from that which is resistant and antithetical to Christ), silence (both inner and outer), fidelity to the regularity and even the tedium of solitary life, and rejection of the distractions which surround or are available to most people all the time, are forms of penance. The inner work (battling with personal demons, falsehoods, compulsions, and distortions!) which silence and solitude lead to and demand is a form of penance, as is simplicity in all things. These are the most basic or foundational elements of the eremitical life which are penitential in and of themselves, and --- though this will be true in different ways and degrees --- I think they will be foundational in any disciplined spiritual life. Penance, after all is meant to assist in prayer, and in dying to self, so anything which contributes to these may be seen as penitential or forms of penance.

Thus too, I would include any forms of personal or inner work needed to deal with the false self we have developed throughout our lives (journaling, PRH -- a particular form of this work --- counseling (if needed), spiritual direction, etc) as part of a legitimate penitential life. I think this is true for anyone, hermit or non-hermit. For most people this would mean (to some extent certainly) turning off the TV, unplugging the phone and computer, committing to and maintaining a regular prayer life, creating an environment of simplicity and silence which contributes to listening to God in the depths of one's heart, and then submitting to spiritual direction or other forms of assistance which help in the accomplishment of the death of the false self and the coming to abundant life of the true self. It will mean, as part of creating and maintaining this environment of attentiveness and simplicity, some degree of fasting (or certainly a practice of mindful eating!), and so too, the disciplined use (or discriminating rejection) of the plethora of things the world offers us as fulfilling. All of these are essential to the eremitical life and I think they are required to some degree by any sound spiritual life, and all of these things may be considered penitential

The second thing I think we should understand and appreciate then is the way penance is linked with a way of life. For hermits, it is the life itself which is penitential. A hermit, for instance, does not merely build in or incorporate occasional, much less arbitrary penances any more than she merely builds in occasional silences or occasional solitude --- though she will add or intensify expressions of these elements from time to time as a way of contributing to an organic whole. Penitential living is a way of living a spiritually healthy life so the focus of everything one does and is is on living in Christ, not on "doing penances" per se. Because of this, many things we might not have considered penance or penitential really are such: maintaining regularity and balance in one's schedule and order in one's living space, being attentive to physical and emotional needs in an ongoing and thoroughgoing way, maintaining a disciplined and measured approach to work, recreation, relationships, etc, will be part of a truly penitential life.

Inauthentic Penance

Similarly, then, many things we might have thought to undertake as penances will not be authentically penitential not only because they are 1) arbitrary (which means they are not integral to one's OWN life of prayer), but 2) because they do not contribute to an authentically human life which is reverent, attentive, discerning, and ordered. Instead they may even contribute to or intensify the falsifications and distortions which are already part of our broken and alienated selves. It is this dimension which your question raises when you ask about proper and improper attitudes towards penance. We are not meant to be about hurting ourselves, playing the ascetic athlete, or buying into notions of penance which are nothing more than thinly veiled attempts to control God and our relationship with God, exercises of pride, self-hatred, disdain for God's good creation, or sado-masochism. While our penance serves to underscore our frailty and complete dependence upon God, we are meant to grow as human beings through our penance; that is, we are meant to develop our capacities for discernment, reverence, compassion, humility, generosity, gratitude and selflessness through our ascetical undertakings. They, therefore should not narrow much less diminish us as human beings, nor contribute to qualities within us that are less than human.

Suffering, Chronic Illness, and Penance

Regarding suffering, chronic illness, and penance, yes, penance has a very real place in living with and through these, but it may look differently than many expect. In the main, living with and even through these realities applies all the things I have said up until now. For instance, fasting (or certainly attentive eating) when one has hypoglycemia or diabetes will look vastly different than when one is healthy. The same is true of anorexia and bulimia --- and these provide a really vivid example of the difference between authentic and inauthentic approaches to penance. Maintaining an ordered life and environment may be very difficult when one has an unpredictable neurological disorder. Chronic pain may require regular narcotic analgesia in order for the person to function well, much less to pray regularly and deeply and participate appropriately in the life of their faith community. A regular schedule of sleeping and rising, or of work, recreation, and exercise may be the most penitential thing someone suffering from clinical depression can do for themselves, especially when combined with regular medication and therapy. (For some sufferers of clinical depression, just getting out of bed each day may be a profoundly penitential reality!)

For any form of chronic illness or suffering, finding and implementing ways of combating self-pity, hopelessness, or a sense that life is not worth living can be central penitential practices. This might include any practice which puts the focus on others and the gift they are for us; it might mean cleaning the house regularly, doing laundry routinely, refusing to leave dishes sitting in the sink (or elsewhere), making our beds, getting out for walks, cultivating a hobby, working one day a week in a soup kitchen or hospital, getting to Mass more frequently, or volunteering to contact and assist people who are sicker than we are to whatever degree we are able, etc. It will also mean the inner work I mentioned above. When God is truly victorious in our lives we live fully. This does not mean lives of superfluity, but neither does it mean an austerity or enthrallment with pain which makes these rather than genuine living the focus of our efforts. Penance gives grace and God's future a chance in our lives in the present and that is the perspective I think we must cultivate no matter our circumstances.