Blessed Louis Brisson: Beatification 22. Sept. 2012

Rev. Louis Brisson

Tomorrow the Oblates of St Francis de Sales as well as the Oblate Sisters of St Francis de Sales and the Visitation Sisters celebrate the beatification of Father Louis Brisson, the co-founder of the first two groups and chaplain to the third. (Lest we forget how influential women religious have been in such situations we should note that it was through the influence of the Mother Superior at the Visitation monastery that Father Brisson eventually began both the Oblates and Oblate Sisters. Mother Mary de Sales Chappui prevailed on Fr Brisson to undertake the projects but it took decades of discussions and three miraculous interventions before he established the community of priests which St Francis de Sales had intended to found centuries before.)

The St Francis de Sales' Cross

Father Louis was an amazingly faithful, creative, and inventive man. For him faith and science were two sides of the same coin. A priest, educator, and scientist, he created an astronomical clock which is still working today; it is considered to be so accurate that NASA scientists have studied it. Those describing the ticking of the clock describe it as a great heartbeat which reflects the heartbeat of God within his creation. Thus, the St Francis de Sales' cross is a cross with clock gears inside it. St Francis de Sales wrote a meditation on the dynamic between the temporal and the eternal and found in the temporal continuing evidence of God's creative handiwork.

St Francis de Sales statue

The beatification ceremony will be in Troyes, France where the Oblate Sisters have a house and where Fr Brisson's remains are located; my pastor along with a group of Oblates from the US are attending.

Today's readings remind us that it takes the development of real character to be called a Christian. We are fortunate to have men like Louis Brisson to remind us what this means.

Always Beginners

[[Dear Sister Laurel, you wrote that hermits feel like novices even after living the life for decades. Why is that? I think Saint Teresa of Avila said like she always felt like a beginner in prayer. Are you speaking of the same experience?]]

Re your first query, what a terrific question --- and a difficult one too! I have never really thought about why one always feels like a beginner at living as a hermit even when one has lived this way for years (which, as I think about it, is definitely not the same as being a novice or neophyte),  but I would say that a large part of it has to do with the reason we are always beginners in prayer, yes. In other words, your question is a profoundly theological one and the answer itself has to do with the nature of God and the nature of prayer.

It is important to remember that prayer is more the action of God than that of human beings. Even when we define it as raising our minds and hearts to God we are speaking of something both initiated and empowered by God. Prayer is God at work in us, and when we speak of prayer periods or engaging in prayer we are speaking of those privileged or dedicated times we allow God to work more freely in us than we may at other times. Therefore, it is not, by definition, something we can become practiced at even though the smallest part of it involves our own actions and dispositions. While we can learn to relax physically, become comfortable in silence, deal with thoughts and distractions, open ourselves more or less to God's presence, a large part of prayer (including our desire to pray) is what God does within us --- and there is always a newness and a kind of incommensurability about this --- even when God's movement within us is subtle at best.

I think the second reason is related. When God is active within us, and especially when we open ourselves to that activity, we change. Our hearts become deeper and more expansive in their capacity to love, our eyes and ears are opened to the really real (Ephphatha!), our minds are also converted, and everything looks and feels differently because we ourselves are different. Thus, through the power of God we are attuned more and more to the eternal which interpenetrates our world and this means that things are never old, never static, and perhaps no longer really completely familiar. I think that ordinarily a piece of judging whether we are a beginner or not is gained by comparing how familiar doing something is. When these things are familiar there is an ease about them, and we are able to gauge the expected results without much conscious attention to things. With prayer, however, we are constantly being brought into a "far country" and in contact with a dynamic, living God we cannot imagine much less set forth expectations about. There is a sense of adventure here, even when it is very very muted; I am not sure that adventure in these terms is ever something we are "old hands" at.

At the same time there is also monotony and sometimes a tedium about eremitical life; like everyone we may crave short term novelty and distraction, but be uncomfortable with the patience and persistence required for genuine newness. Our world often mistakes novelty for authentic newness and we are profoundly accustomed to and conditioned by this. Yet, the yearning for real newness is a part of our very being. (In the NT there are two different words for new which accent this distinction. The first is kaines or kainetes which indicates a newness of character which is superior and respects the old; the second is neos which means new in time but can also mean a denigration of the traditional or the old.) The situation of monotony and tedium is exacerbated because prayer can seem like nothing at all happens despite our trust (knowledge) that God is present within us working, touching, loving, recreating, and healing.

In the short term especially we may not be able to see or sense the changes that are occurring within us and since the hermitage itself changes very little, in worldly terms we think we are not progressing. This too can make us feel like beginners because we don't feel "we are getting anywhere". It might seem that this conflicts with what I said above about the adventure of prayer, but it is more the case that both things are occurring at the same time and we see one or the other according to our perspective. I think though, that this set of reasons (focusing on our own progress in worldly terms) is far less significant or influential for contemplatives --- and that is especially true if we are speaking of St Teresa of Avila or someone similar.

In light of what I said about the distinction between novelty and authentic newness above, it occurs to me that some folks imagine heaven (the realm where God is truly Lord) as really tedious or boring (thus they fill it or at least imagine it filled with activities!); but the simple fact is that the God who is eternal and living is, for these very reasons, always new. Our own yearning for newness is a yearning for God and life with God, not a desire for novelty or distraction. (One of the reasons Christians embrace some form of poverty, by the way, is precisely to be sure their lives are attuned to the new (kaines, kainetes) rather than to the novel (neos). For those truly attuned to the new there is therefore less need to become shopaholics, less need for every new gadget or electronic gizmo. But the novel is seductive and religious poverty as value or vow helps limit the degree to which it seduces us!!) It seems to me that to the degree we are truly attuned to God's presence and live in grateful communion with him, to the extent we really are a new creation, all is new to us as well. We experience all of this with gratitude and the sense that we are always beginners.

I will definitely think about this more --- especially the link between gratitude and always being beginners just opened in the last sentences. The entire reality is fascinating, both as a topic and especially as an experience to which persons of prayer witness; so again, many thanks for the questions. I am sorry I don't have a better answer, but for the time being I hope this is helpful.

The Story of Jonah

Every once in a while someone sends me something truly wonderful. I think this video is one of those. In case you haven't heard the story of Jonah recently and would like to hear a wonderful dramatic "interpretation" from someone who has clearly thought long and hard about it from what seems a very Ignatian perspective, give it a listen!!

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

This second video includes Mary Margaret singing Holy, Holy, Holy and then telling the story of David and Goliath. I recommend both, but the first four minutes where she sings are amazing!

Mary from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Followup Questions on Writing a Rule of Life: Should Bishops Write the Hermit's Rule?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I wanted to thank you for what you have written about writing a Rule of Life. I have been able to find a little bit of information online about this, but your own blog has the most information so far. I am not a hermit but I like the idea of living according to a Rule of Life and your posts have been really helpful. I do have a question. You have written about the benefits of writing one's own Rule and doing so on the basis of one's lived experience. You have also said that people should not write a Rule without having lived the life for some time. But what about someone writing a Rule FOR a hermit? Recently I read about a new diocesan hermit whose Bishop wrote her Rule. I guess you wouldn't agree with that practice. Am I right? Can you see this working in individual cases? Should it become a regular (no pun intended) practice for Bishops?]]

Objections to Bishops Writing a Diocesan Hermit's Rule: How the Rule Functions

Well, you are correct that I don't think the practice of having a Bishop write one's own Rule is a good way to go or a good precedent to set. There are several reasons for this. First, the Rule is usually used by dioceses not only to assess the way a person lives solitary eremitical life, but it is an excellent piece of discerning the quality and type of vocation before one. Not least, it is a fairly good way of assessing the candidate's strengths, deficiencies, and relative readiness for profession to a vocation which is strongly dependent upon the hermit's own ability to act independently and maturely in her obedience to God's will in her life. After all, she cannot grow in this vocation otherwise, especially since her contact with superiors is relatively infrequent. Besides, Bishops change and will differ in the degrees of involvement they can have in any hermit's life; there must be a strong pattern of inner-directedness and appropriate autonomy in a diocesan hermit's life before she can be admitted to vows of any sort. The capacity to write a Rule for oneself reflects one's own degree of formation, one's conscious awareness of her own spiritual needs and disciplines, the way she specifically embodies the central values or elements of canon 603 and the eremitical tradition more generally, as well as the way she sees her own life affecting the life of her parish and diocese and vice versa.

Secondly, the Rule is not simply a list of do's and don't's; it is not merely or even primarily legislative. It is meant to be a document which reflects one's own inspired vision of the life, why it is significant in the 21st century, how the various pieces of living it fit one's own story and are shaped by that, and how generally God has been present to one along with how one best responds to Him in a call to the silence of solitude. The negotiation of the tension between eremitical traditions and the needs of the contemporary world and church are the hermit's to achieve. She will do so in dialogue with others --- including her Bishop and delegate, of course --- and especially she will do so in a prayerful, discerning way, but this negotiation IS her vocation and a large part of the charism (gift) she brings to the church and world. No one can do it for her.

Thirdly, as I have said before, while both of the following are essential, a Rule is intended first of all, to inspire one to live their vocation and only secondarily to legislate how one lives it. It is meant to provide a personal way to assume one's own place in the eremitical tradition and that means that only a hermit who has lived the life and is sensitive to its values, charisms, rhythms, freedom, constraints, and history is apt to be able to write an adequate Rule for herself. Associated with this is the fact that a hermit comes to conscious awareness of and terms with much of the tradition, her own life, and the shape of God's call to her in the actual writing of a Rule. The process of doing so (living and growing in the life, consciously reflecting on this, and then articulating in writing what makes that possible or what it obliges one to) is an intensely formative process and it is one I would hate anyone, but especially a diocesan hermit, to miss. Since some of these hermits have not been formed in religious life it becomes even more critical they not miss this intensely formative process and experience.

Problems with the Practice of Bishops Writing a Diocesan Hermit's Rule

Now, what about a Bishop writing the Rule for a solitary hermit? There are several problems I can see with this. First, most Bishops have neither the expertise nor the understanding of the eremitical life to do this. Not only are they apt to write the same Rule for one hermit as they write for another (simple lack of time and knowledge of the individuals will lead to this), but they are apt to write a list of do's and don't's --- a primarily legislative document rather than a document which is geared to 1) inspire, challenge to greater and greater understanding of the eremitical tradition and one's place in it in the 21st century, or 2) one which will serve as a guardrail allowing one to journey freely, creatively, and relatively safely through the wildernesses of that journey.

Secondly, if a Bishop is the one writing the Rule, that seems to suggest the candidate does not have the necessary experience to do so herself. After all, hermits have been required to do this themselves since 1983 and the promulgation of the revised Code of Canon Law, and in the main they have been doing so effectively. One of the most significant things we see in listening to the way Rules are shaped is how truly individual they are even while they represent the eremitical tradition and canon 603. This individuality within tradition is an actual piece of the charism (gift quality) of solitary eremitical life to the church and to the world and we ought not short-circuit the work of the Spirit nor take this piece away. Thirdly, if the Rule does not really fit the candidate particularly well in certain areas but is required for the person to be admitted to profession, it then raises questions for me as to how free the hermit candidate is to say no to what does not work for them and to write in that which does. Down the line, such hermits are apt to find themselves living a Rule which does not actually suit their own individual pattern for growth in Christ and they actually may not be able to fulfill the Rule they are vowed to fulfill.

Possible Alternatives to Bishops Writing Rules for Hermits

Having said this I think a Bishop could well write a set of guidelines for ALL hermit candidates in his diocese --- just as he (or someone he delegates) might do for a laura when several diocesan hermits come together to live in solitude. But, when established for solitary hermits, these would not be a Rule, only general requirements on what should be included, reflected on, and fleshed out in light of one's own lived experience. In the situation you mentioned (that is, if the one I am aware of is the same one), as I understand it, the Bishop wrote a draft of a Rule and the hermit was able to modify and edit it as she needed to. So long as the Bishop was not, for instance, demanding certain prayer forms (chaplets, the entire Divine Office), a certain frequency of attendance at Mass beyond some realistic standard which honors the needs and obligations of solitude, a fully specified horarium, etc, and so long as these guidelines do not curtail the important discernment the hermit herself is required to do as something inherent to the vocation itself, this could work. Also, as long as the Bishop makes it entirely clear that the hermit should edit and shape this draft in light of her own experience and in light of her own needs it could be acceptable --- though, I continue to think, less adequate than a hermit writing her own Rule.

One Sister with a background in leadership and formation I spoke with about this (and after I made the above comments in the original draft of this post) pointed out that a Bishop might well provide a Rule to a candidate at the beginning of a period of discernment and then, after a period of five years  or so, expect the hermit-candidate to write her own Rule prior to accepting her for admission to profession.  I think it is a VERY good idea. I would add that another revision might well be made before perpetual profession as needed (I believe it often will be). Moreover, I would suggest another Rule be written at the two or three year point rather than the five year point as one approached the possibility of temporary profession. This would allow the diocese a much better sense of the way the vocation is developing, the maturity with which the hermit is making the tradition her own, the degree to which she is living it out in dialogue with parish, universal church, and the contemporary world, the way in which she negotiates both the essential or non-negotiable elements of the life and the need for flexibility, the degree to which this is truly the vocation Canon 603 governs, and the world needs, etc. Not only would such a solution serve the diocese's own discernment in the matter, it would allow the candidate or hermit to educate the diocese (and chancery!!) about what a contemporary eremitical vocation is all about. Finally, it would give the hermit or candidate the needed opportunity to enjoy the formative and (for those truly called to the vocation) the confirming experience writing such a Rule usually is.

Summary of Objections

However, otherwise, no, I absolutely do not think Bishops writing hermits' Rules should become a regular practice (pun definitely intended!!). I dislike it as a precedent at all. Canon 603 is sufficient and hermits have done well by tailoring their own Rules to their lives and stories. This is especially true when Bishops are admitting sufficiently experienced and mature candidates to profession. Again, they have to be aware that not everyone who lives alone is called to eremitical life, and that freedom is one of the hallmarks of mature spirituality and especially mature eremitical spirituality. If someone has not got the experience to fulfill the requirement of c 603 regarding the writing of a Rule (I am emphatically not referring here to the hermit you mentioned by the way), then they are probably not ready for profession either. Further, Bishops, I think, have to be humble enough to admit that they do not really ordinarily understand the vocation sufficiently nor have the expertise to write an eremitical Rule. This would be especially true for Bishops who are not from a religious congregation. Most are canonists and as I have said before, knowing what is allowed (or not prohibited ) canonically is not the same thing as knowing what is vocationally prudent or appropriate, especially for a given individual.

Contemplative Prayer, a Waste of Time?

Occasionally folks write things meant to provoke reactions rather than solicit actual responses. This is especially true when folks write to me re this blog and with religious listserves. I sometimes think folks do this to deal with their own demons with regard to religion, but sometimes the antagonism is simply too much and those demons are not exorcised. Recently someone wrote the following and in it refers to Thomas Merton's contemplative practice as an inefficient way of merely "clearing one's mind" and a waste of time: [[ Thomas Merton, like other monks, was known to sit perfectly still for over an hour just trying to contemplate or meditate on God. If you try sitting still and not even moving your neck for an hour, you will see it is very hard. Now that I look back on those moments of contemplation, it seems like a waste of his time. Maybe he felt it helped clear his mind, but surely he could have cleared his mind without adopting such a rigid pose. At the bottom line, do we think any person can get closer to God and understand God better from spending hours each week in complete silence waiting to hear something from God?]]

I actually think that the questions implied here are good ones and perhaps I err often here by assuming people know more about contemplative prayer than they do. I know that eremitical life is not understood by most folks but I forget that for many in our world time spent in prayer, especially contemplative prayer, can truly seem like a terrible waste of time. I have several friends who call themselves atheists --- though they differ on the definition of that and (during one conversation we had together) were quite surprised to hear that consistent atheism actually denies the reality of meaning, or that there are some definitions of God they reject which mainline first-rate theologians would also reject as caricatures. What these folks (and the person who wrote about contemplation as he did above) all seem to have in common is a naivete about really basic things --- in this case the purpose and nature of contemplative prayer. My response to these comments would be:

Sitting in silence for an hour is not hard or a waste of time --- no more than sitting silently with a friend for an hour is difficult or a waste of time, that is. The accent is not on not moving, however; it really is not too difficult to sit in a completely relaxed but alert way for an hour. In Christian contemplation small movements occur but the general posture does not change much. Unlike in some forms of Zen sitting, a Christian moves (and is completely free to move) various muscles or muscle groups in order to relieve remaining stress, ease occasional pain, etc. The purpose of sitting in contemplative prayer is not to learn to ignore one's body or experiences of discomfort or pain, but to enable one to listen to what is happening within oneself where God is ALWAYS speaking.

Thus, this kind of sitting is not inflexible or rigid, nor does it foster an insensibility to what one experiences but instead is relaxed and natural, thus fostering attention to one's inner life. It is this relaxed and natural way of sitting that makes it easy to maintain. In my own life and in monasteries where I go on retreat it is natural to sit for an hour in the mornings. At the monastery it is also not uncommon to do a period of "walking meditation" after 40 minutes or so of sitting, and then to resettle in one's original sitting position. This is helpful for guests and also for older Sisters who might need to move a bit. Again, the accent is not on immobility but on presence and prayer.

Neither does one contemplate by spending "hours waiting to hear something from God" --- as though one is expecting a kind of spiritual telegram or as though God is not always speaking, always calling, always acting to reveal himself if only we would learn to listen. Instead one sits in silence and opens one's heart to the reality of God's presence and voice. Whether one hears anything telegram-like, has any striking insights or not, the purpose is to give oneself wholly to God, to allow him the space, time, and freedom to love one and reveal himself in any way whatsoever. One learns to "hear" God in the silence of one's heart --- the place where, by definition, God "bears witness to himself". Such periods, far from being a waste of time, are deeply humanizing. That is certainly what Merton found them to be and what all the monastics and contemplatives I know regularly find.

The capacity to listen and respond is fundamental to human being. The capacity to listen to one's own heart as the fount from which life is continually bubbling up and one's own call or invitation to be is issued moment by moment, is something we all need to develop. As I wrote earlier, the capacity to listen and respond (hearken) in this way is thought to be the most basic dynamic of human life and it is from this capacity that our own capacity to hearken to others comes. To cut oneself off from such hearkening is a symptom of relative inhumanity. As we learn to listen, however, we draw closer to ourselves --- our truest, most original selves --- and to the God who grounds our being (for these two exist as a communion). As we do this, we become more capable of giving ourselves to others, to living from this deep and more original self, and to calling others to do the same.

Our world does not actually foster this kind of deep, humanizing listening. Instead it is all about constant noise, continuous stimuli, repeated escape from introspection, silence, solitude, or the threat of boredom. Our resulting relationships reflect this and the incapacity it fosters. Consider the friends who stand near one another and text each other rather than actually speaking and listening profoundly to one another, or the couples that go out for coffee and then spend time texting other friends who are not there. Consider the homes in which the TV, computer, iPod, stereo, etc are constant accompaniments --- even to family meals or conversations. These are the tip of a very large and destructive iceberg, I think. Contemplatives practice sitting in silence because we are all called more fundamentally to a different and far more profound listening, dialogue, and communion than we are used to considering, much less pursuing.

It is not that contemplatives expect to learn something new about God, or that we expect to hear him speak to us in some divine equivalent of a voice mail or text message --- though occasionally something like that might actually happen; it is that we wish to allow God to take hold of us completely, that we recognize our silence gives him space to create, heal, and recreate us as persons capable of real listening --- and from there, gives him some of the space needed to heal and recreate the entire world. I would say this is hardly a waste of time.

"Ephphatha!": Obedience as the Dynamic of Authentic Humanity (Reprise)

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

In each of our lives there is deafness and "muteness" or inarticulateness. So many things are unheard by us, fail to touch or resonate in our hearts. So many things call forth embittered and cynical reactions which wound and isolate when what is needed is a response of genuine compassion and welcoming. Similarly, so many things render us speechless: bereavement, illness, ignorance, personal woundedness, etc. As a result we live our commitments half-heartedly, our loves guardedly, our joys tentatively, our pains self-consciously and noisily --- but helplessly and without meaning in ways which do not edify --- and in all these ways therefore, we are less human, less articulate, less the obedient or responsive language event we are called to be.  To each of us, then, and in whatever way or degree we need, Jesus says, "EPHPHATHA!" "Be thou opened!" He sighs in compassion and desire, unites himself with his Father in the power of the Holy Spirit, and touches us with his own hands and spittle.

May we each allow ourselves to be brought to Jesus for healing. May we be broken open and rendered responsive and transparent by his powerful Word of command and authority. Especially, may we each become the clear gospel-founded words of joy and hope in a world marked extensively and profoundly by deafness and the helplessness and despair of noisy inarticulateness.

Sister Simone Campbell, SSS: Democratic National Convention

The responses to Sister Simone's speech at the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte have been generally quite favorable. (Actually, the words I have heard are "Terrific", "Magnificent", and "Rocked the convention"! Among Sisters the opinion was, "She did us proud!") I would agree with those assessments. Sister Simone speaks her position clearly, with a passion and compassion that are palpable; she prudently limited her speech to the Ryan budget and the effect it will have on the poorest of our nation, especially without appropriate implementation of the Health Care bill. Clearly she sees this budget making of the US a country which betrays its own nature and charter rather than a country where we are truly "our sisters' and our brothers' keepers".

Very striking and effective were the people she brought into the convention simply by telling their stories. She did not exploit them. She gave them a voice and a place to stand on the podium. Who, when time comes to vote, could easily ignore the story of Matt and Mark, the 10 year old sole caregivers of a mom with MS and diabetes? Or that of Margaret who died of cancer because her lack of health care insurance didn't allow for proper or timely diagnosis? Nor did Sister Simone allow herself to simply be used by the Democratic party for its political ends. Some, for instance, have condemned Sister Simone's comments because she does not speak out against abortion and they criticize her as being fully aligned with all parts of the Democratic platform. But this is simply mistaken. When the Democratic "handlers" edited her speech and she felt the result was "too political", Sister Simone calmly noted that if these revisions were required they were free to find someone to fill her speaking slot. The Democratic handlers quickly agreed to "revise the revisions."

While Sister Simone did not mention abortion specifically in this speech, she did say that the Nuns on the Bus tour dealt with "a piece of my pro-life stance," thus implying a more extensive stance which she has addressed explicitly at other times. She also recalled the Nuns on the Bus motto: "Faith, Family, Fairness" and spoke often of "our shared faith" as well as referring to the Sisters' agreement with the Bishops on the immorality of the Ryan Budget.

Given the constraints of her situation I am even more impressed than I was earlier by Simone's capacity to hold a genuinely Catholic position, to speak for policy which supports Gospel values, and to eschew simplistically or blindly supporting a particular candidate or party platform. (She is very good at getting people to embrace her position instead!!) This is especially true in the face of movements to excise God and faith from the discussion. Way to go, Sister Simone!

Followup: Cloistered Nuns Becoming Diocesan Hermits?

Hi Sister Laurel, you answered a question a month or so ago about diocesan hermits becoming cloistered nuns. I wondered a couple of things because of that.

First, can a cloistered nun become a diocesan hermit and what is the process for this? (I am thinking about someone who must leave for health reasons.) Second, why would a hermit who was happy with her vocation and sure of it think about becoming a cloistered nun? Or do you think she would need to be unhappy in it and unsure of it? How common is it for diocesan hermits to find they are not really called to what you have referred to as "solitary eremitical life"?

Can a Cloistered Nun become a Diocesan Hermit?

Thanks for several really great questions. The details of the answer I gave back in July are essentially the same for someone going the opposite direction (i.e., from cloister to canon 603). Yes, it is possible for a cloistered nun to become a diocesan hermit, but it is still a different vocation and must be discerned on its own. One cannot simply "transfer" one's vows (there is no where to transfer them to for one thing) and shift from cloistered nun to diocesan hermit. Instead, one needs to obtain an indult of exclaustration for the purposes of discerning the eremitical vocation and then begin living as a solitary hermit. Beyond this, one will also need eventually to leave one's congregation (via an indult of departure, for instance) and begin taking on the obligations of all lay or diocesan hermits: self-support, solitary life apart from a monastery or monastery property, relationships with local parish, the diocesan Bishop, etc. I think you can see this would all take several years (In the situation you are describing I am envisioning not less than five years before admission to perpetual profession as a diocesan hermit --- if indeed this even occurs).

Even after one has taken all these steps one (or one's diocese) may find they are not called to be a diocesan hermit. As I noted earlier, despite the silence and solitude and other similarities between these two vocations, they remain different vocations and because one is not called to one does not automatically mean one is called to the other. For instance, let's say, as you envision, someone has to leave the monastery for reasons of health. The resistance to leaving and the desire to continue living their vows, etc will be very strong and understandable. However, this does not mean the person is necessarily called to profession and consecration under c 603. There needs to be a significant period of discernment here simply because one needs to come to terms with what has happened to one in terms of one's health, loss of vocational path, loss of community, etc.(Something similar happens to the bereaved who need time to come to terms with who they are apart from their marriage, etc. Discernment of vocation does not happen in the throes of such significant changes. Time and healing are required.)

Further, these are not the only reasons for a required period of discernment so the entire thing can take some time! After all, canon 603 describes a unique and significant vocation; it is, as I have said many times here, NOT a stopgap for those who cannot be professed any other way, nor an automatic option for those who must leave their monasteries or religious life for some reason. In fact, while it might seem that a nun leaving her monastery for health reasons should naturally consider c 603, my own thought (rooted in my own experience) is that such a situation requires greater care and caution, and in fact means a more complicated and lengthy discernment process than, for instance, the situation where a nun requests exclaustration because she more naturally feels the need for greater solitude.

For a nun leaving her monastery, apart from exclaustration and dispensation of vows, the process regarding canon 603 itself is essentially the same as for anyone else requesting admission to profession under canon 603: 1) a period of living as a lay hermit (or as a religious hermit on leave from her congregation until she receives an indult of departure) to establish herself outside the monastery and discern the general nature of her call as well as more specific considerations (should she live eremitical life as lay vs consecrated, laura-based or solitary eremitical life, should she be considering and investigating instead possible re-entry into or transfer to another monastery or community? --- some will accept certain health problems where others might not, for instance), etc; 2) a period of mutual discernment with the diocese during which time she will probably write a Rule of Life based on her own lived experience of the life; 3) a period of temporary profession as a solitary hermit, and if all goes well, 4) perpetual profession.

While some think the process of learning to live the vows will be considerably shortened or unnecessary for such a person, even the ways the vows themselves are lived is different for a solitary hermit than for a cenobitical monastic, so the person will have to learn to understand, interpret, and live these despite already having a background in the vows. Again, as you can see, this process is not a quick or automatic one. By the way, the process of discernment and preparation for eremitical vows may be shorter for someone who has learned in the monastery that they require greater solitude and who has specifically requested exclaustration for this reason, but again, the discernment of an eremitical vocation under canon 603 will require some time and all of the considerations involved above.

Hermits becoming Cloistered Nuns:

Why would a hermit choose to become a cloistered nun? I think there are several reasons, all having to do with community and protection of solitude --- especially, in some instances, as one grows older. As I have said many times, hermits are not anti-social, nor are they misanthropes or individualists. Communion is at the heart of the vocation, primarily with God, but also with the Church and whomever God cherishes. Sometimes the need for community simply becomes more explicit or concrete. This could be because the hermit requires more liturgical prayer in common, communal celebration of the Divine Office, greater access to the celebration of the Eucharist. It could be because in order to grow more fully she finds she needs to be able to share regularly about solitude and life with God with others pursuing the goal and living the same adventure --- though in a different context. It could be because one sees that old-age can make the difficulties of supporting oneself while living a solitary life of prayer and penance VERY acute and chooses a mitigated solitude to protect the integrity of a solitary vocation to prayer as best one can --- perhaps in a semi-eremitical context. Illness could well be a similar factor a diocesan hermit would need to accommodate in later years. These are some of the reasons I can think of.

Added to these are the considerations and serious discernment that must take place when a significant change of circumstances occurs. A well person may become chronically ill, but also, a chronically ill person may be healed and determine she is called on to share her life in and with the church in new ways. Let me underscore that the discernment required in such cases is significant and serious. So, actually, I don't think that uncertainty about or unhappiness with one's eremitical vocation are the only reasons to consider something like moving to a monastery. For some, such a move would be a real sacrifice. But we all have various gifts (and deficiencies) which require different soils in which one may grow or heal fully. We are not obliged to develop all of these in the same way or to the same degree, but we are called to discern on an ongoing basis how best to do what seems God's will.

How Common is it to find one is NOT called to solitary eremitical life?

I can't say with any specificity (I have no numbers) but I can say confidently that it is far more common for people to find they are not called to it than to find they are. Again, it is critically important that those who imagine or aspire to solitary eremitical life understand this is not simply about living a relatively pious life alone. It is not a way of generally justifying situations or conditions which cause one to be alone. It is instead a desert vocation with all that entails (cf posts on desert dwellers). And yet, few people understand the distinction --- including some Bishops! By far, the vast majority of people who are not admitted to formal discernment, to temporary profession, or do not persevere to perpetual profession, are those who have not understood this basic distinction nor made the essential transition from living alone, to living alone with God for others! Similarly, it is one thing to live alone with God and another thing entirely to say with one's life that God alone is enough. This after all, is the statement a hermit is called to make with her life.

With regard to those who have been perpetually professed and lived as canon 603 hermits for some time, I think it is rather rare for them to discover they are not called to this. I have heard of a couple of people who left their dioceses and hermitages and moved into community with others (or who moved back and forth), but these folks also wanted from the beginning to establish a laura or community of hermits. (By the way, this is another reason Bishops and candidates need to be very clear the person is not requesting or accepting profession under canon 603 as a way to a different vocation or as a consolation prize for something else they cannot have. Such vocations are not edifying and they create precedents which mislead others and are otherwise confusing or sometimes even scandalous.) Some few, however, do move to monastery grounds as long-term rent-paying guests and, as diocesan hermits, manage to contribute significantly to the life of the community while garnering some elements required for the stable living of solitude which were not present for them when they were living in a local parish. Still, in all of these cases, the numbers, even relatively, are quite small and the reasons for doing so must be significant.

Fifth Anniversary of Perpetual Eremitical Consecration

Today is the fifth anniversary of my perpetual eremitical profession/consecration (though I have lived religious life for 37+ years.) Five years ago I belonged to my parish, of course, and people knew me and celebrated with me. Today, however, they are my family --- part of the very fabric of my life --- and this weekend many of us celebrated not only my birthday (yesterday) but the past five years and the journey we have made together (Friday and today). I feel so greatly blessed it is almost overwhelming --- an embarrassment of riches --- as I told Marietta today.

Thus, five years ago at the reception following my consecration my pastor quoted e e cummings:

I thank you God for most this amazing
day, for the leaping greenly spirit of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any --- lifted from the no

of all nothing --- human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

It was hard to believe the joy of that day might be eclipsed by greater joy or the life it marked could grow even broader and deeper (though I hoped!!). But that is the truth of things. I thank God for most this amazing day and for all those who today are such an integral part of its deepest meaning. Some of this is echoed in the slide show from five years ago. The eyes of my eyes continue to open, the ears of my ears continue to be awakened. That is the promise of the Kingdom!

Moyers and Company: Nuns, Faith and Politics

Excellent presentation not only of the Nuns on the Bus trip --- views you have not seen up until now, but with a discussion between Bill Moyers, Sister Simone Campbell, and Robert Royal. If the story Sister Corita Ambro tells of coming to a place where she could hug Jimmy at the St Augustine Hunger Center doesn't touch you profoundly with what the presence of ministerial religious means to the marginalized (and remind you of St Francis and the Leper) I will be very surprised. Wonderful for it's honesty (humility), its pathos, and as a clear picture of what such Sisters are doing every single day, it provides a key to the perspective they uniquely hold in the discussions and debates about social justice and the focus of Sisters belonging to the LCWR, for instance.

Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard (reprised)

Today's Gospel is one of my all-time favorite parables, that of the laborers in the vineyard. The story is simple --- deceptively so in fact: workers come to work in the vineyard at various parts of the day all having contracted with the master of the vineyard to work for a day's wages. Some therefore work the whole day, some are brought in to work only half a day, and some are hired only when the master comes for them at the end of the day. When time comes to pay everyone what they are owed those who came in to work last are paid first and receive a full day's wages. Those who came in to work first expect to be paid more than these and are disappointed and begin complaining when they are given the same wage as those paid first. The response of the master reminds them that he has paid them what they contracted for, nothing less, and then asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own money. A saying is added: [in the Kingdom of God] the first shall be last and the last first.

Now, it is important to remember what the word parable means in appreciating what Jesus is actually doing with this story and seeing how it challenges us today. The word parable, as I have written before, comes from two Greek words, para meaning alongside of and balein, meaning to throw down. What Jesus does is to throw down first one set of values, one well-understood or common perspective, and allow people to get comfortable with that. (It is one they understand best so often Jesus merely needs to suggest it while his hearers fill in the rest. For instance he mentions a sower, or a vineyard and people fill in the details. Today he might well speak of a a CEO in an office, or a mother on a run to pick up kids from a swim meet or soccer practice.) Then, he throws down a second set of values or a second way of seeing reality which disorients and gets his hearers off-balance. This second set of values or new perspective is that of the Kingdom of God. Those who listen have to make a decision. (The purpose of the parable is not only to present the choice, but to engage the reader/hearer and shake them up or disorient them a bit so that a choice for something new can (and hopefully will) be made.) Either Jesus' hearers will reaffirm the common values or perspective or they will choose the values and perspective of the Kingdom of God. The second perspective, that of the Kingdom is often counterintuitive, ostensibly foolish or offensive, and never a matter of "common sense". To choose it --- and therefore to choose Jesus and the God he reveals --- ordinarily puts one in a place which is countercultural and often apparently ridiculous.

So what happens in today's Gospel? Again, Jesus tells a story about a vineyard and a master hiring workers. His readers know this world well and despite Jesus stating specifically that each man hired contracts for the same wage, common sense (and a calculus of strict justice!) says that is unfair and the master MUST pay the later workers less than he pays those who came early to the fields and worked through the heat of the noonday sun. And of course, this is precisely what the early workers complain about to the master. It is precisely what most of US would complain about in our own workplaces if someone hired after us got more money, for instance, or if someone with a high school diploma got the same pay and benefit package as someone with a doctorate --- never mind that we agreed to this package! The same is true in terms of religion: "I spent my WHOLE life serving the Lord. I was baptized as an infant and went to Catholic schools from grade school through college and this upstart convert who has never done anything at all at the parish gets the Pastoral Associate job? No Way!! No FAIR!!" From our everyday perspective this would be a cogent objection and Jesus' insistence that all receive the same wage, not to mention that he seems to rub it in by calling the last hired to be paid first (i.e., the normal order of the Kingdom), is simply shocking.

And yet the master brings up two points which turn everything around: 1) he has paid everyone exactly what they contracted for --- a point which stops the complaints for the time being, and 2) he asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own gifts or money. He then reminds his hearers that the first shall be last, and the last first in the Kingdom of God. If someone was making these remarks to us in response to cries of "unfair" it would bring us up short, wouldn't it? If we were already a bit disoriented by a pay master who changed the rules of commonsense disbursal this would no doubt underscore the situation. It might also cause us to take a long look at ourselves and the values by which we live our lives. We might ask ourselves if the values and standards of the Kingdom are really SO different than those we operate by everyday of our lives (they are!!), not to mention, do we really want to "buy into" this Kingdom if the rewards are really parceled out in this way, even for people less "gifted" and less "committed" than we consider ourselves! Of course, we might not phrase things so bluntly. If we are honest, we will begin to see more than our own brilliance, giftedness, or commitedness; we might begin to see these along with a deep neediness, a persistent and genuine fear at the cost involved in accepting this "Kingdom" instead of the world we know and have accommodated ourselves to so well.

We might consider too, and carefully, that the Kingdom is not an otherworldly heaven, but that it is the realm of God's sovereignty which, especially in Christ, interpenetrates this world, and is actually the goal and perfection of this world; when we do, the dilemma before us gets even sharper. There is no real room for opting for this world's values now in the hope that those "other Kingdom-ly values" only kick in after death! All that render to Caesar stuff is actually a bit of a joke if we think we can divvy things up neatly and comfortably (I am sure Jesus was asking for the gift of one's whole self and nothing less when he made this statement!), because after all, what REALLY belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God? No, no compromises are really allowed with today's parable, no easy blending of the vast discrepancy between the realm of God's sovereignty and the world which is ordered to greed, competition, self-aggrandizement, hypocrisy, and strict justice, nor therefore, to the choice Jesus puts before us.

So, what side will we come down on after all this disorientation and shaking up? I know that every time I hear this parable it touches a place in me (yet another one!!) that resents (or at least resists!) the values and standards of the Kingdom and that is called to measure things VERY differently indeed. It may be a part of me that resists the idea that everything I have and am is God's gift, even if I worked hard in cooperating with that (my very capacity and willingness to cooperate are ALSO gifts of God!). It may be a part of me that looks down my nose at this person or that and considers myself better in some way (smarter, more gifted, a harder worker, stronger, more faithful, born to a better class of parents, etc., etc). It may be part of me that resents another's wage or benefits despite the fact that I am not really in need of more myself. It may even be a part of me that resents my own weakness and inabilities, my own illness and incapacities which lead me to despise the preciousness and value of my life and his own way of valuing it which is God's gift to me and to the world. I am socialized in this first-world-culture and there is no doubt that it resides deeply and pervasively within me contending always for the Kingdom of God's sovereignty in my heart and living. I suspect this is true for most of us, and that today's Gospel challenges us to make a renewed choice for the Kingdom in yet another way or to another more profound or extensive degree.

For Christians every day is gift and we are given precisely what we need to live fully and with real integrity if only we will choose to accept it. We are precious to God, and this is often hard to really accept, but neither more nor less precious than the person standing in the grocery store line ahead of us or folded dirty and disheveled behind a begging sign on the street corner near our bank or outside our favorite coffee shop. The wage we have agreed to (or been offered) is the gift of God's very self along with his judgment that we are indeed precious, and so, the free and abundant but cruciform life of a shared history and destiny with that same God whose characteristic way of being is kenotic. He pours himself out with equal abandon for each of us whether we have served him our whole lives or only just met him this afternoon. He does so whether we are well and whole, or broken and feeble. In this way he does "what is right," in the language of the parable, and he asks us to do the same, to pour ourselves out similarly both for his own sake and for the sake of his creation-made-to-be God's Kingdom.

To do so means to decide for his reign now and tomorrow and the day after that; it means to choose a calculus of justice measured in terms of mercy and generosity, not measured out to us as strict "this-worldly" justice is meted out. It means that we let ourselves accept his gift of Self as fully as he wills to give it, and it therefore means to listen to him and his Word so that we MAY be able to decide and order our lives appropriately in his gratuitous love and mercy. The parable in today's Gospel is a gift which makes this possible --- if only we would allow it to work as Jesus empowers and wills it!

St Bernard of Clairveaux

Often I get emails from folks which never show up on this blog. Sometimes they have personal questions about prayer, mysticism, contemplation, etc. Recently I received a series of emails which involved questions regarding experiences of God in contemplative prayer. While the person did not desire these experiences for their own sake, she did wonder if perhaps their absence indicated something was missing from her contemplative praxis. About a week or so after answering her questions in terms of listening for God's voice in a different way, I came across the following quotation from Bernard of Clairvaux. I share it not only because it speaks to this person's questions, but because it is appropriate on this, St Bernard's Feast Day:

[[I want to tell you how God's Word [Jesus] has come to me, and come often. As often as he would enter into me, I didn't perceive the different times when he came. Now and then I would be able to get a premonition of his coming, but never perceive it, nor sense when he left. When the Word entered into me from time to time, his coming was never made known by any signs --- by word, or appearance, or footstep. I was never made aware by any action on his part, nor by any kinds of motions sent down to my inmost parts. As I have said, it was only from the motion of my heart that I understood he was present.]] Sermon on the Song of Songs.

Sister Ann Marie signs her solemn vows, Redwoods Monastery

In the Gospel for today a young man is asked to go beyond externals, beyond law, beyond all the things he "owns" and/or clings to, and to follow Jesus wholeheartedly. He is asked, in other words, to make discipleship a matter of attending to the motion of his own heart --- a matter of being moved by Jesus' life and living similarly, of being motivated by Jesus' prayer and praying similarly with a kenotic faithfulness even when God seems absent, of loving as Jesus loves and emptying himself of anything but love of God and compassion for the other. Contemplatives live from the motion of their hearts. They are folks who have learned to attend to these because the human heart, by definition, is the place where God bears witness to himself in all of life's ordinariness. Jesus revealed it in the 1st century; Bernard affirmed it in the 11-12th centuries. It is as true today.

My very best wishes to all Cistercians, Trappists and Trappistines today, especially to the Sisters at Redwood Monastery (Abbey) in Northen California on this feast of one of their Order's founders.

Sister Mary Hughes, OP Addresses the National Press Club

A very comprehensive report on the nature of the LCWR and the Assessment of the CDF with regard to the LCWR on doctrinal matters. Sister Mary Hughes, OP tells the story of the discussion and concerns which have been raised from the perspective of the LCWR. Especially important is the affirmation of the commitment of the LCWR to the well-being of the Church and the need to find a way of fostering genuine dialogue in the Church. Sister notes with gratitude the listening Archbishop Sartain did and expresses a commitment on the part of all members and leadership of the LCWR to continued contemplative listening, to prophetic presence, to presence and ministry to the marginalized, and to modeling community which speaks to a polarized world and church. Sister Hughes emphasized the possibilties this crisis (moment of decision) raises for the church as a whole and the LCWR's commitment to hopeful participation in the process set forth by the Vatican. Very much worth listening to.

On reforming or disbanding: Does this principle apply to the Curia as well as to the LCWR?

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, you write positively about the LCWR. Yet these Sisters have been asked to reform themselves and seem resistant to doing so. They are not openly rebellious but instead are resisting reform by pretending to be involved in discernment. Cardinal Burke has said if they cannot reform themselves they should not continue to exist. I think the LCWR is in open conflict with the very Church that called for their existence. Why shouldn't the hierarchy just disband them?]]

In answering your question I would like to point out a much more far-reaching, fundamental, and critical contradiction I think you should consider. Please bear with me; it is not exactly a direct answer but bears my answer within it. As you point out, near the end of the LCWR assembly last week Cardinal Raymond Burke stated in an interview for EWTN, "“If it can’t be reformed, then it doesn’t have a right to continue.” I want to note two things. First Cardinal Burke speaks of reformation as something other than a Divinely empowered process which requires dialogue, prayer, and significant discernment. He thinks of reform as a top down process, a simple submission to a Curial agenda rooted in the sense that the curia knows the truth, including what religious life is all about, while those consecrated women living the life in the US are somehow 1) left out of the Holy Spirit's inspiration, and 2) have no input in the church's understanding of the nature of religious life. Is this really credible? Is it theologically sound? Secondly, I wonder if the principle "reform or be disbanded" applies to all levels of the church. For instance, does it apply to the Roman Curia?

Fifty years ago Vatican II raised the imperative issue of the reform of the Curia in its Decree on the Pastoral Office of Bishops. Pope Paul VI affirmed the need if the ecumenical goal of the Council was to be achieved but took the issue off the table making it clear that the curia would reform itself. His successor John Paul I is said to have been grappling with the issue of curial reform when he died. Thirty years after Vatican II John Paul II raised the issue again in 1995 when he asked for assistance in reforming the papacy in his encyclical, Ut unum sint. In fact, he asked for the Church's Bishops to engage in a "patient and fraternal dialogue" about this reform in order to achieve what Scripture and Vatican II set forth as a goal: "That they might all be one". In what Abp Quinn characterizes as an astonishing request, John Paul II also spoke of his own need for conversion and asked the entire church to pray for it: [[The Bishop of Rome himself must fervently make his own Christ's prayer for that conversion which is indispensible for "Peter" to be able to serve his brethren. I earnestly invite the faithful of the Catholic Church and all Christians to share in this prayer. May all join me in praying for this conversion! UUS #4]]

Archbishop John Quinn took up the issue of reform which meant especially reform of the politics, policies, and praxis of the Roman curia as essential to "The costly call to Christian Unity," in his own contribution to the dialogue JPII had requested. (The papacy and curia are not completely separable and reform of one involves reform of the other.) He explained that Christian unity is not simply a matter of doctrinal convergence, but a matter of changes in the way authority is understood and leadership is exercised. The goal of Christian unity demands reform (as Vatican II made very clear) of all of the faithful and the structures of the church; only then can we go out to other Christians seeking unity. The requirements of reform were spelled out clearly in his 1999 book The Reform of the Papacy, The Costly Call to Christian Unity. Significant chapters included one on "Reform and Criticism in the Church" another on "The Papacy and Collegiality in the Church," as well as chapters on the College of Cardinals, the appointment of Bishops, and the reform of the Roman curia. Throughout, the problem of increased centralization was pointed out as an obstacle to ecumenism and even to the church's own essential well-being.

A second volume called, The Exercise of the Primacy, Continuing the Dialogue which contained Abp John Quinn's Oxford Lecture and responses by a number of theologians was published in 1998. One of the essays included was "Searching for God's Will Together" which reflected on the nature and place of discernment in the life of the whole church. Most important in this essay is the recognition that discernment and obedience to authority are not the same thing --- though often they are taken in overly-centralized structures to be the same thing. That is, it is not the case "that the Spirit's promptings are simply and unerringly perceived at the top of the pyramid of the church's hierarchy" and that for those below this level discernment means unquestioning submission. Instead, discernment more traditionally requires listening to the will of God as expressed by authority and as heard in the everyday circumstances of life at all levels of the church. (The text refers at some length to the theology of discernment of St Francis de Sales at this point.)

A course between uncritical submission to ecclesiastical authority and merely acting on personal whim must be charted in discerning and responding to the will of God. Unfortunately a highly centralized, monarchical church tends to make true discernment and the charting of such a course impossible. Discernment is something we do together as peers in Christ (Gal 3:28)! The search for truth is something we engage in together. Our commitment to the will of God is something we can only accomplish together. And all of this means if the church is to be the one, holy, and catholic church God wills, reform must be accomplished within the papacy and curia as well as in every organization and person. Unless this reform is achieved the very mission of the Church is jeopardized. As a result of this conversation and John Paul's call for assistance with this reform, countless books and articles were spawned --- all of which pointed to the essential nature of the Church, the ecumenical goal of Vatican II, the ministry of reconciliation central to the NT, and the critical need for reform of the Curia and Papacy in achieving these things.

And yet, the Church has a papacy and curia today which are more extremely centralized and isolated from the whole People of God than when 1) Archbishop John Quinn offered his analysis 17 years ago 2) when Vatican II called for Unity and the necessary reform, or 3) when John Paul II asked for assistance in realizing this critical goal. It is a hierarchy which still confuses submission to authority with authentic discernment. In fact we see this notion of submission being made the whole meaning of religious obedience in discussions regarding the LCWR when instead the New Testament idea of obedience as attentive hearkening to the will of God mediated in innumerable ways is the broader and more accurate sense of the term. It is a papacy and curia which show no sign of taking seriously the call to reform which has been their charge for more than 50 years, but besides engaging in a backwards looking self-protective retrenchment which includes the rejection of authentic episcopal collegiality, actually opposes groups like the LCWR of US apostolic women religious who, mistakes and missteps notwithstanding, have clearly taken Vatican II's challenge to reform seriously and continue to do so.

So, Cardinal Burke's comment prompts me to ask you, shouldn't this principle also apply to the papacy and curia? If, after 50+ years of extensive reflection on the need for reform, theological analysis of the avenues to be taken, and explanation of the requirement by council and popes, the curia cannot reform itself, but instead shows itself intransigent and resistant to the will of God revealed in all these ways, shouldn't it be disbanded? Is there a more Christian, more traditional way of achieving what needs to be done here? I believe the LCWR is showing us that there is and it is here especially that their insistence on patient, prayerful, dialogue and discernment represents an edifying service to the whole Church. They are not pretending to anything; they are acting as disciples of Christ in faithfulness to their profession and vows, to Vatican II and the NT ecclesiology accenting collegiality, subsidiarity, and servanthood affirmed there. Further, in what strikes me as a significant act of kenosis (self-emptying), they are doing so in a way which has the credibility and welfare of the church itself as well as it's mission in promoting Jesus' ministry of reconciliation uppermost in their hearts and minds.

Brindle, In Memoriam

Sometimes the significant people we lose in our lives are cats. A number of years ago and a few weeks after my first cat "Merton the Tom" had to be put down, the vet brought over another cat that had been left on the hospital's door step about the time Merton died. It wasn't until a couple of months later that we discovered why "Brindle" had been abandoned --- she had a seizure disorder. Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I have struggled with a medically and surgically intractable seizure disorder, so the irony of inheriting a cat with epilepsy was not lost on me or any of my friends.

Still, her seizures were infrequent, usually minor, and didn't seem to get in her way. She prayed with me (well, she was with me when I prayed anyway), lay nearby as I studied or wrote (she learned to position her forearms on the corner of my computer away from the keys and usually had a paw on one of my typing hands), spent time with me in my patio in the sun or the shade while I read or prayed, chased anything I dangled or pulled around in front of her (shoelaces were her favorite thing) and, like all cats, slept a lot! She always knew when I was not feeling well, and usually crawled up next to me and placed her paw on my chin when that was true. (Otherwise she would crawl up on my chest and place her chin near mine.)

Friday night Brindle had a minor seizure, the second in about a month. She had stayed very close to me all evening before that. After the seizure, she recovered, walked about, ate and drank some, but her resting rate of respiration remained high. Soon thereafter she simply died. Whatever the cause, it seemed her heart just stopped. She was wonderful and loving with a terrific personality and I will miss her.

Post Script: My sincerest thanks to Aggie and John Malanca for their help in burying Brindle. Aggie provided the space under one of the plum trees in her back yard, flowers for the grave, and even a small ceramic cat for a headstone. He son John dug a grave in spite of the heat this afternoon, and allowed me to cry on his shoulder --- literally. I have never had a "big brother" and I am certainly older than John, but today it felt like I had a big brother for the first time in my life. It was hard to tell which touched me more, burying Brindle or this fraternal experience --- temporary as it was.

LCWR Assembly: An Example of Waiting on the Lord

In reflecting on what was achieved at the LCWR assembly this last week I was reminded of a piece I wrote some time ago on the parable of the foolish (and wise!) virgins. In that piece I noted that the foolish virgins had failed, but they had failed because they had ceased being women who actively waited for the future coming of the Bridegroom. I noted: [[If I am correct about this it opens the way to understanding "waiting" -- and particularly waiting for the Lord -- as something tremendously active and demanding, not passive or lacking in challenge. I suspect it is also something most of us are not very good at, especially in terms of the coming of the Lord! So what does waiting mean and involve? According to today's parable waiting involves the orientation of our whole selves towards a reality which is still to be fulfilled in some way. It means the ordering of our lives in terms of promise, not merely of possibility, and it means the constant reordering of our lives accordingly as time goes on. Waiting involves the acceptance of both presence and absence, reality and unreality, already and not yet, and the subordination of our lives to the dynamics these poles point to or define.]]

Recently we have seen a striking example of women religious who epitomize the capacity to wait on the Lord and who show us what a challenging, active, prayerful, demanding reality it is. There is very little pure passivity or "quietism" about it (obedience is never merely passive), but it is a non-violent way of approaching reality, a way which takes responsibility for both present and future without attempting to coerce or control them. These women's lamps are full of oil because over the past decades they have filled and refilled them with their eyes on the one who is present and who is also to come in fullness. They have learned to act in the awareness and patience brought by hope, in a consciousness of the promise present within reality, and oriented towards the future while remaining fully committed to (not enmeshed in) the present.

Media expected a clash between the condemnation of the CDF and the pain, disappointment, confusion, and strength of the LCWR this last week. It did not come. They expected either an act of rebellion or of submissive and demeaning capitulation. Neither of these came, nor would they have been appropriate in Christ's own Church. Instead the LCWR prayed, discussed, and acted in precisely the way they have been formed to do from decades of prayer and the practice of non-violent communication. Some commentators described what they saw as similar to a judo encounter where one uses the force of one's opponent against them. Others spoke of the Sisters absorbing the force of the action taken against them and transforming it into something more positive.

Both images are good, though I prefer the second. Both demonstrate a kind of counter-intuitive, counter-cultural way of dealing with force or coercion. Jesus' knew this way intimately and referred to it when he asked his followers to 1) willingly take up the gear of the Roman soldier trying to commandeer them and 2) walk an extra mile with him. In such a scenario the Roman soldier would have ceased to hold a superior position and been required to ask his "servant" to cease his activity --- unless, of course, the two walked on together as equals in a mutual journey. (Roman soldiers could not require a person to go more than a mile and would have been guilty of breaking the law had he done so. The one being pressed into service assumes the role of equal or even superior in freely "going the extra mile.") And of course, we know that acting freely, generously, even in situations we would not have chosen transforms the entire situation from one of bondage and oppression to one of freedom and empowerment.

As I have written before, a similar dynamic is at work in Jesus' request of the one struck (backhanded) on one cheek --- as inferiors were always struck in Jesus' day --- to turn the other cheek to the one assaulting them. This meant requiring the one who had struck out to strike again with the front of their hand ---- something only done to equals. The alternative, of course, was for the one who had struck "his inferior" to refuse to strike again and to walk away. In either case the one struck assumes the place of an equal and demonstrates that justice is not accomplished by force. Jesus' asks us to do justice, but to do it in ways which are counter-cultural and invites those who would use force to simply walk in brotherhood with the other. The same is true when Jesus asks us to accept our part in his ministry of reconciliation, to be simple as doves and shrewd as serpents in this work, to commit to the kinds of death real life requires of us, and to participate in his passion so that our world may be transformed by him.

Waiting, especially waiting on the Lord, does not mean doing nothing. It means acting in ways which give the Lord a chance to act in power. It means acting in ways which allows life to grow where only death is seen to be operative. Waiting on the Lord means cultivating a mode and mood of listening, of openness and of hope (not wishfulness!). It really does mean being gentle as doves and shrewd as serpents --- because as we all know, real strength is gentle and demands the simplicity of a cultivated intelligence. It can disarm those who desire instead to control and overpower and certainly it will confound those who only expect a worldly way of handling conflict and disagreement. Finally, it will help transform structures of inequity and coercion into a reality more nearly that of the Kingdom of God.

The LCWR was told that they were to be involved in a collaborative process with the CDF. At the same time they are being required to submit to certain demands in order to achieve reforms, some of which have yet to be clarified by the CDF. The tension between these two elements, collaboration and constraint, can only be maintained without surrendering one's integrity if both sides are genuinely open to the other and to God in a way which models Jesus' own openness and obedience. If both can do this the reform involved will affect the entire church, not just the LCWR. If both can really allow this process to be the collaborative process the CDF called for we will see a hierarchy whose authority is made more credible than an authority of coercion and control can ever be except in entirely worldly terms. The LCWR has begun well and with the wisdom of the wise virgins in Jesus' parable.  We pray they will continue in the same way. Archbishop Peter Sartain has responded in ways which indicate his own commitment to a process which is radically Christian, profoundly Catholic, truly authoritative, and which therefore respects the time, patience, and collaboration "waiting on the Lord" requires. Let us hope that indication continues to be true of his part in this process over time.