Reservation of Eucharist: Is it Essential for the Hermit?

Over the past years several people have written me about their desire to become a diocesan hermit in order to be allowed to reserve Eucharist in their own living space. Most striking about three of these emails was the clear sense that diocesan eremitical life per se held no interest for the person apart from this privilege, and indeed, were the ability to reserve Eucharist in their own living spaces withheld by the diocesan Bishop one person said honestly but bluntly, "What is the point of being consecrated?" It is a good question (for there IS a point!), but it also likely says the person posing the question is not called to diocesan eremitical life at this point in time --- if at all. The following is an accurate characterization of the questions I have received from the three posters referenced compiled as though from a single correspondent.

[[Dear Sister, I would like to reserve the Eucharist in my own home. I live alone and I attend adoration when I can. It is really pivotal to my own spirituality. I am discerning a vocation as a diocesan hermit so that I can do that and I am pretty sure that I am called to this. From what you have written though, I understand that my Bishop does not have to grant me this right [to reserve Eucharist]. So here're my questions: What would be the point of becoming consecrated if my Bishop was NOT going to grant this right? Why not just continue to live as I am already? Also, isn't the right to reserve Eucharist critical to discerning such a vocation? Shouldn't those discerning such a vocation be allowed to reserve Eucharist before they are professed/consecrated?

Further, wouldn't I be kind of "stuck" if a new Bishop took this right away from me?  Personally I feel if that happened it would be devastating to my vocation. I know that obedience is important and I don't mean that I would be disobedient to my Bishop; however, I want to be obedient to the will of God and I think that reserving Eucharist is God's will for me. After all, who are we serving?  I love the Lord in the Eucharist; I experience God flooding my being with his presence during adoration sometimes and having Him in my private chapel apart from distractions and noise by other people is absolutely necessary to my becoming consecrated. I imagine this is true for any consecrated hermit, isn't it? ]]

Thanks for your questions.  I am afraid that given what you have written about your reasons for embracing an eremitical vocation, and especially a consecrated form of that, your question "why not continue to live as [you already are]?" is pretty much my own question to you. What I hear you saying to me is simply that you want to reserve Eucharist and that you will seek and accept consecration as a diocesan hermit if that is allowed you, but there is no point in doing so otherwise; that is, you really see no point to living as a diocesan hermit or embracing the rights and obligations associated with this public vocation in the Church otherwise. As significant as devotion to the reserved Eucharistic presence may be for a person (I say "may" for it may also be unhealthy, theologically unsound, and destructive) and as significant as it is for you personally, it is not a sufficient reason to live an eremitical life much less seek or be admitted to consecration in this way. Similarly it may actually suggest that one is not a suitable candidate for either eremitical life generally or for consecration under canon 603 more specifically. Let me try to explain.

Reservation of Eucharist is a privilege; it is not essential to eremitical life:

While you may imagine that what you feel and believe is and would be true for any consecrated hermit, it is simply not the case. The privilege of reserving Eucharist is not an absolute right and, in fact, is not even typical of the eremitical tradition. Only rarely have hermits been able to reserve Eucharist in their hermitages; it is a distinctly modern development and is still not universally  practiced. Not all diocesan hermits are granted this right and some personally feel no need for it (or they may feel they don't have adequate space for it given the simplicity of their living arrangements). Most religious hermits also live without this privilege (it is typical of the Carthusians and Camaldolese to live in cells without Eucharist reserved). I am sure you would agree nonetheless that there is a point to their lives and that the presence of God in their cells is undoubted. 

Eremitical life has generally been lived in both the Eastern and Western Church  for almost 2000 years without the privilege of reservation of the Eucharist by individual hermits.  If this is truly the reason you are seeking consecration, that is, if this is really absolutely vital to your being consecrated, then I believe you have missed something critical about this vocation. Let me suggest that, for instance, you may not yet be sufficiently appreciative of the ecclesiality of the vocation or of the other ways God dwells with the hermit (or the hermit with God) and the ways the hermit is called to give witness to these realities. Similarly, you may not be open to the loneliness and paradoxical experience of God's presence which is not tied to a literal tabernacle and sometimes feels like an absence. Dealing with this is part and parcel of the eremitical life and of the witness it is called and commissioned to offer both Church and world.

For instance, while the Celebration of the Eucharist and its extension to the hermitage through the reserved Eucharist is central to my own life and to the ecclesial sense of this vocation, and while I would need to change some of the ways I pray were the privilege of reserving it revoked ---especially on days I do not attend Mass --- that revocation would not adversely affect the quality of my prayer or my sense that God is with me as he is in the Eucharist --- in Scripture, in contemplative prayer, in my solitary meals, etc. Neither would it diminish my sense that I live this vocation both for the sake of others and empowered by them and their love and prayers as well (again, part of what I have been calling the ecclesial sense of this vocation). The Eucharistic presence is significant, of course, and it symbolizes all of these things. I emphatically do not mean to minimize that, but my hermitage is and is meant to be a tabernacle of the Risen Christ whether or not I am also allowed to reserve Eucharist here. This is true, I would suggest, for any consecrated hermit and again, is part of the public witness they are called on to give those others who have no chance of reserving the Eucharist in their own spaces but who are also called to recognize and realize their own lives as instances of Eucharistic presence and as places where that presence can become manifest in everyday moments and activities.

Neither is Reservation of Eucharist Essential to the Candidate's Discernment Process

Reservation of the Eucharist is not part of the discernment process --- at least not in the way you are thinking above --- because it is not absolutely necessary to the eremitical life per se or even to consecrated life. It is a privilege, and I agree it is wonderfully life giving and significant, but it is not part of Canon 603's essential elements, for instance. (You might want to review those and also read something like Wencel's book on eremitical life to help you reflect on them.) It is customary only post-consecration at this point, but it is not more than customary. If you continue to develop your own prayer life I think you will find that God's being can flood your own regardless of whether or not you have Eucharist reserved; that is one piece of a strong Eucharistic theology which carries one beyond the limits of Mass or chapel or tabernacle. YOU are to become bread broken and wine poured out for others, whether you have access to Eucharistic reservation or provision for adoration or not. As a hermit your own response or experience should actually be as much to the living God who, in the silence of solitude, resides in  your own heart as it is to the presence in the reserved Eucharist. If you do not find this to be the case it may well be because as yet you are less open to this. Again, Christ is present in many ways in the life of a hermit. All of them must be given attention and allowed to be as fully nourishing and inspiring as God wills them to be.

Not least this is so because OTHERS will benefit from the witness of your life when this is the case and because, as Canon 603 says explicitly, we live it "for the salvation of the world", not merely for ourselves. Our world itself is at least potentially sacramental and we are meant to see that realized (revealed) in every home, etc; a hermitage should surely do this in a way which is paradigmatic for the whole church and world --- significantly this means whether or not the privilege of reservation is allowed. Because of this, genuine discernment looks for signs that this is true for candidates for eremitical consecration without the reservation of Eucharist. You see, you, like anyone else living by themselves, are alone with the Lord the moment you sit down to pray, or eat, or read a page of Scripture. You, like anyone else, are alone with him the moment you sigh in need or fear or loneliness or pain.  Like anyone else, you are alone with him when you shower or wash dishes, lie down to sleep, clean house, work in the garden or take a walk outside the hermitage, etc. This too is real presence. 

A hermit's life witnesses to THIS reality and if one is truly attentive and maturing in her faith she will seek to come to know this sense of presence and faithfulness whether with or without the presence of the reserved Eucharist because, as noted above, this experience can assist the majority of persons called to a similar holiness to embrace this truth in their own lives despite the fact they will never have even the possibility of reserving Eucharist in their own homes. For these reasons, among others, discernment of a vocation to canon 603 eremitical life may well even require that one NOT be given permission to reserve the Eucharist in their hermitage before perpetual profession and consecration. Though this would be an unusual step, I think, it might well be important for a superior to refuse, suspend, or revoke permission to reserve the Eucharist in one's hermitage, at least temporarily, even after a person is professed and consecrated.

I say this because unless a person can live with God in THIS way they may not be called to eremitical solitude at all. Instead, their physical solitude may be a form of illegitimate isolation and their desire to reserve the Eucharist a form of privatistic devotion which is actually a betrayal  1) of the vocation's ecclesiality, 2) of the nature of eremitical solitude, and 3) of the very nature of Eucharist itself. (cf, Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Narcissism and Exaggerated Individualism, or Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Ecclesiality vs Individualistic Devotional Acts) In a little-understood vocation fraught with stereotypes related to selfishness, narcissism, and misanthropy and with regard to a canon which has already been abused in merely stopgap solutions for those who cannot be consecrated in any other way, it is important that candidates for profession be models of significant ecclesiality or communion, generosity, love for and witness to others.

What would be the Point of Becoming Consecrated if the Permission could be Revoked?

The fact that you ask "what would be the point?" regarding consecration as a diocesan hermit in the face of lack of permission or revocation of permission to reserve Eucharist in your own space again suggests to me you do not yet truly sufficiently understand nor value the nature of consecrated eremitical life or the witness it gives to so very many whose isolation can and must be redeemed by the presence of God in their physical solitude. A hermit knows this because she has actually been formed in solitude usually without the privilege of reservation. The hermit finds God in ALL the ways God is present, and all the ways every person is called on to find God and she does this not only because she is called to do it, but because it is a central redemptive truth and possibility anyone in the consecrated state must clearly witness to. There is a significant "point" to eremitical life and communion with God is certainly pivotal to that; however, reservation of the Eucharist is NOT absolutely necessary for achieving this communion and may even be an obstacle to it for some, especially if it makes of solitude an instance of isolation and Eucharist a mainly privatistic indulgence.

Bishops know this and my own experience is that they allow reservation of the Eucharist only as PART of a rich and varied life where God's presence is perceived and celebrated in all the ways it is real. They are aware that the reservation of the Eucharist must never be isolating (again, solitude and isolation are very different things), never cut off from the whole People of God or fail to be a true extension of her Eucharistic liturgy, never merely a privatistic act and certainly not an elitist or selfish one. Permission is given when reservation is a piece of a healthy Sacramental theology which sees every meal in the hermitage as a continuation of Eucharist with the hermit's local community, every interchange with others as an exchange of the kiss of peace, and so forth. Reservation of Eucharist is allowed because in a life of eremitical solitude it calls for and can nourish this kind of spirituality which serves the  hermit and whole People of God. Ironically, for a hermit to actually learn these things and live them fully as part of a profoundly ecclesial vocation, it may be important to withhold permission to reserve Eucharist in the hermitage. (cf:  Notes From Stillsong: On Reservation of the Eucharist and, Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: On Hermits and Eucharistic Spirituality, Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Ecclesiality vs Individualistic Devotional Acts for more on Eucharistic Spirituality and the dangers of privatistic or individualistic devotional practice in its regard.)

This is not merely a matter of obedience in the sense of doing as one is told (though it certainly may include that), but it is very much a matter of a more profound and fundamental obedience where one learns to hear, respond to, and celebrate the God who comes to us in the ordinary things of life and who, in the hermit's life especially, is allowed to transfigure all of reality including one's living space itself. You ask, "Who are we serving"? We are serving God, of course. But, as I have noted above, we are serving him as we serve others with our own witness to the ascended Christ who is present to all of reality and can transfigure it with that presence. We are serving all those others whose isolation needs to be transformed by God's presence as it comes to them in every moment of every day. We do so by witnessing to these possibilities and to the Kingdom of Heaven that is meant to interpenetrate and transform this reality.

As noted earlier the issue of ecclesiality comes into play in all this. This time, however it is a consideration because you speak as though you might disobey your Bishop if your own sense of what God calls you to differs --- or at least you already believe you know better. In fact, as a diocesan hermit you have to consider that God's will ALSO comes to us through the Bishop and our vows and commitment to an ecclesial vocation requires we listen attentively to this. Also as already noted, Bishops can have VERY good reasons for denying or removing permission for the reservation of the Eucharist in the hermitage of a diocesan hermit. Of course, the hermit must be convinced of the value of this vocation apart from himself. He must see its value for the whole church and, while his own discernment is important and should be considered by the Bishop, the hermit must also let go of the notion that he alone knows best.

Mary Magdalene and the Requirement she not Cling to the Jesus she knows so well:

Let me say finally that the way you narrowly cling to the reserved Eucharistic presence alone reminds me of Jesus' words to Mary Magdalene: "do not cling to me, I have not yet ascended to my Father." Jesus clearly was pointing to a presence which would be harder to perceive perhaps but which Mary was really called to commit herself to. It is a more risky presence, less comforting for some maybe, and certainly less comfortable, but it is the real Eucharistic spirituality we are all called to embrace. Whether or not we are allowed to reserve Eucharist in our own living spaces it will be a symbol of this more extensive and even harder-to-perceive reality --- the ascended Christ present in every bit of ordinary reality. If you are ever to truly discern a vocation to be a hermit, much less a consecrated solitary hermit, you are going to have to open yourself to this presence just as Mary Magdalene was required to do. More, you are going to need to commit to allowing it to become more and more pervasive in our world. That is part of committing yourself to the coming Reign of God among us and part of every disciple's call and commission --- but it is particularly so for those called to ecclesial vocations and consecrated life.

In other words before you can say you have truly discerned a vocation to be a diocesan hermit you are going to need to discern a vocation to love God wherever God is in your solitude, wherever he desires to be present to you and to all that is precious to him, not only in Eucharistic reservation. Similarly, you are going to need to discover and be able to articulate the charism of the eremitical vocation which is a gift of the Holy Spirit to the WHOLE People of God --- not merely to you or for the purposes of your own private devotion. Beyond this your diocese will need to mutually discern this vocation with you and admit you to profession/consecration; otherwise you simply cannot consider yourself truly called to this vocation. You asked what is the point of being consecrated without permission for reservation of the Eucharist, and as it stands, it seems very clear that for you there is no point. Unless and until you really discover and are prepared to embrace the purpose, mission, and gift (charism) of a life of eremitical solitude lived for others I think you are correct that you ought not pursue this path. 

What is Prayer?

[[Dear Sister, My question is , what is prayer? I know god knows all things and could cure my Sister-in-law should he so choose. I also know from my grade school days there are prayers of petition, of thanksgiving and others that I cannot remember right now. How does one, you, spend time in prayer? What do you think about while spending this time? Perhaps focusing on the life of a saint, say Saint Bonifacius, Saint Anne; a parable from the New Testament? A psalm? A story, and its message, from the Old Testament. A concept like Sanctifying Grace, the Communion of saints, etc.]]

 Hi there,

     I guess the most basic answer I would give is that besides being God's own work within us, prayer is our Spirit-empowered response to the active and effective presence of God in our lives and in our larger world. It presupposes and always presumes he is present and active within and around us and involves opening ourselves to that in a variety of ways. Thus, different forms of prayer look differently than others. For instance, in quiet prayer, I tend not to think about anything in particular; I simply sit quietly and open myself to God so that he might dwell within me and touch me in whatever ways he wills. When I pray with Scripture I read it slowly and allow it to speak to me in whatever way it can. I may also imagine myself in the scene, imagine Jesus has just told (or rather, is telling) me the parable at hand, and so forth. Another piece of all this is journaling: I journal about Scripture, and also about the events in my own life in ways which allow God's voice to be heard there. Journaling tends to accompany all of the prayer in my life.

With Divine Office I sing the psalms etc. and pour myself into them as best I can. With the Lord's Prayer, I might take a single petition each day and spend time with it or I might pray the entire prayer with space between each petition so that I am free to feel, think, imagine, etc whatever might be associated with that line. When traveling on a train, for instance, I look briefly at each person while praying the Jesus prayer (I finger some beads I wear on my wrist at such times). When I am ill, I might take a Taize hymn or other piece of music and listen to it while opening myself to God's presence as well as I can.

My prayer for others tends to be a prayer that God will be with them and support them in whatever way they most need. It seems to me to be as important that I hold them in my heart as it is to pray for anything specific. I know that the God who grounds my being and resides within my heart links me to the other person in a similar way so in some ways my prayer is an offer to support that person and to not leave them alone --- even though I may have no awareness of this nor may they. My own spontaneous prayers tend to be cries for assistance ("O God come to me assistance, O Lord make haste to help me!"),  cries of deep joy and gratitude, exclamations of amazement, praise, etc. 

Guess that's about it for a start. Please be assured of my prayers for your Sister-in-Law. Whatever happens she is not alone.

Called to Speak the Gospel Truth: Being Clever as Serpents, Gentle as Doves (Reprise)

The gospel for tomorrow is both challenging and consoling. In case you have not seen it yet, it is Matthew's account of Jesus' counsel about needing to be gentle as doves and shrewd as serpents in a situation which is literally tearing Matthew's community asunder. When (not if) people are brought before political and religious leaders Matthew reminds them of Jesus' teaching, "Do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you that speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you." Jesus then tells them that Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child, children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all because of my name (my powerful presence), but whoever endures to the end (whoever perseveres completely) will be saved.

Now I have heard homilists and others trivialize what is being taught in this reading. One deacon I know (not in my parish!) once said he never prepared homilies because of this text; he preferred to allow the Holy Spirit to speak through him! Years ago I heard an undergraduate theology student try to use this text as a justification for his unprepared presentation on the meaning of a text. It didn't go over very well. Nor should it. As Christians committed to ongoing conversion we should know that speaking rightly with the power of the Holy Spirit comes only after long experience of God's compassion and forgiveness. It is only God who can teach us wisdom in our inmost being, only God who can create a clean heart in us, only God who can put a steadfast spirit within us, only God who can open our lips so that our mouths may proclaim his praise. This doesn't happen in a day. It comes only after more extended time spent in the desert (for instance) listening to and grappling with the Word of God, allowing it to become our story as well, struggling with the demons we find there while we come to terms with and really consolidate our identities as daughters and sons of God in Christ.

I recently heard a story that illustrates the dynamics of Matt's gospel. Though it is not a recent story (sometimes being a hermit means I don't hear these things when they happen), in it people are asked to confess their inmost hearts as they are brought face to face with a world which sometimes seeks to destroy them. Matthew describes this exact thing in his gospel. In such a confrontation Jesus asks us be simple as doves and shrewd as serpents. He asks us to have done the long, demanding heart work that prepares us to be prophets and mediators of the Holy Spirit --- people with a heart of compassion and forgiveness intimately acquainted with the mercy and love of God and committed to being one through whom God speaks to change the world and bring the Kingdom. This is not about not doing our homework or being presumptuous; it is about becoming the people Jesus sends with pure hearts and a shrewdness which disarms --- like turning the other cheek, walking the extra mile, and so forth would have done in Jesus' day. (cf Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Clever as Serpents, Gentle as Doves)

The story is that of the Amish school massacre in Nickel Mines, PA. I would ask that you check out the following video as Bill Moyers tells the story. [[Released from anger and bitterness, but not from pain. Forgiveness is a journey. You need help from others. . .to not become a hostage to hostility.]]

The responses to the story, as Moyers notes, were diverse. Mainly people were awed, some thought such forgiveness could only be a kind of planned show and other suggested the church told the Amish to do this rather than accepting it as the natural expression of a deeply ingrained and authentic spirituality. Others who had failed to draw the important distinction between forgiveness and pardon or release from consequences, argued the forgiveness was undeserved, illegitimate, and imprudent. (cf Jacoby, "Undeserved Forgiveness." Jacoby has another, similar op ed article on Cardinal Bernadin's decision to minister to a serial killer when Bernadin had only 6 mos time left because of the cancer he struggled with.)

What Moyer's account indicates but is unable to detail sufficiently in the above brief video is the extent of the acts of forgiveness and the real reconciliation that occurred as the Robert's family were repeatedly visited by Amish and in turn came to assist with the injured children (who in fact asked why they had not yet visited their families!). (One child continues to be very severely disabled and Roberts' mother comes each week to read to her, sing to her, and sometimes bathe her. The Amish remark on the blessing her presence has been, and of course it has served similarly for her.) At every level Amish and English (especially Roberts' own family) worked to rebuild relationships and shared their mutual grief. Forgiveness, real forgiveness recreated a community that had been shattered by the killings. It was not naive and did not simply avoid or suppress emotions but it made the painful and healing process of moving forward into a "new normal" possible for everyone. The Amish had prepared, not for the tragedies themselves exactly, but for the hard work of reconciliation by long habits of the heart, as Bill Moyers affirmed. But the picture they also give us is one of people who are indeed simple as doves and shrewd as serpents --- just as Christians are called and empowered to be.

If you haven't read the book, Amish Grace, please do so. I admit I read it last night and was in tears practically the whole evening. I don't think I can remember another book or story that has so broken or broken open my own heart nor convinced me how elemental our desire and need for forgiveness or for being people who truly hand on the ministry of reconciliation we are called to be (2 Cor 5:17-21) really is.

Solemnity of St Benedict (Reprise)

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 we can all benefit from. 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 Benedictine Sisters at Transfiguration Monastery, the monks at Incarnation Monastery in Berkeley, and New Camaldoli in Big Sur, and the Trappistine Sisters at Redwoods Monastery in Whitethorn, CA.

The Urban Hermit, Saturday Evening Post

Recently parts of an interview I did over a year ago for Jack El-Hai and The Saturday Evening Post was published in an artcle on Urban Hermits. I noted it here in early May. You can now find that article on the SEP website (until July the May/June issue itself was not available online) The New Urban Hermit | The Saturday Evening Post ; there is also now a related video provided above. Apparently staff at the SEP thought about what they needed to do to "unplug and unwind" as a result of the piece. I will note that despite the article stereotypes of hermits continue even in the comments of the editorial director (I, for instance, do not live "off the grid") but it was nice to see the article stimulating folks to think about their own lives and excellent of course to have anyone interested in writing such an article at all. Check it out!!! May/June 2013 | The Saturday Evening Post. Please also read, Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: A Call to Extraordinary Ordinariness, a summary of what it means to live an "ordinary life with extraordinary motivation".

Personal Questions

[[Dear Sister Laurel, in your own eremitical life which piece of your spiritual practice is most important? Is it contemplative prayer, Office, Lectio Divina, writing, or something else? When you look back at the past years since solemn profession what has been most formative for you? How about before those years? Have you changed much as a hermit? (I know that last question might be a little bit too personal but I am interested. Feel free not to answer this of course.)]]

Thanks for the questions. There are three elements of my daily life which are difficult to tease apart completely and so, difficult to weight above or below the others. Those three are Scripture, quiet prayer, and writing. You see, although I spend discrete periods of time in lectio as well as journaling and other writing, of its very nature lectio segues into quiet prayer and writing and then back again into quiet prayer and back yet again to Scripture/lectio, etc. In other words, my lectio is incomplete or partial without the time I spend writing, my writing is incomplete without quiet prayer, and quiet prayer tends to need to spill over into writing and other things just as it drives me back into Scripture. (Note that all of these presuppose and call for the silence of solitude so I am not speaking of it as a discrete element --- though I well could.) Scripture is a living reality for me, a genuine ("Real") presence of God which touches and both calls for and nourishes many other things, but especially writing and quiet prayer.

Bearing that in mind I guess I would have to say it is my own silent grappling with Scripture (which means listening to it in silence, reflecting on it, praying it, writing about it and even working to proclaim it) that has been the most formative experience since perpetual profession (2007). There I hear the Word of God and it truly challenges, heals and transforms me. Quiet prayer is often wonderful (actually it is mostly wonderful --- not in terms of extraordinary experiences but in terms of simply sitting quietly with and in God) but I am also aware at those times how very much Scripture informs those periods. The same is true of writing; I learn a great deal while writing but I am also aware that I can do none of it without the constant impetus and support of Scripture. I am not sure what element I would name for the years prior to perpetual profession. The same three elements were present but there was a good deal less writing and less Scripture as well. There was more theology per se (academic theology) and quiet prayer was very important so perhaps I would name that.

Have I changed much as a hermit? My first impulse is to say, "I sure hope so!" but really my answer is yes. Quite literally I have grown into this vocation in a way I could not have imagined before experiencing it. Sometimes we go about doing all the things we are committed to doing, and in that way we are the persons we are meant to be. Someone who teaches is a teacher, but it is possible to say "I am a teacher" without that affirmation ever touching the core of who one is. Someone who lives the life of a hermit is a hermit but it is possible to do this without ever "achieving" the heart of a hermit. Someone who lives the life of a religious is a religious, but similarly, it is possible to do this without having one's heart shaped into that of a religious. If one is very fortunate one will find that through the grace of God one has had one's own heart shaped and molded into the heart of a hermit and/or the heart of a religious, and not merely that this is something one is moving towards or deeply desiring. I am not really sure how to better describe what I mean here.

Concretely it means I am happier than I have ever been, and freer as well. It means I love more and better, that I am better able to be silent and lay aside my own agendas or needs in order to truly listen. (It means I have fewer agendas for that matter!) It means that I am aware of the energy of grace moving through me, that even when I am ill or tired I am secure in who I am in Christ and especially in terms of canon 603 and religious life. It means I feel a responsibility for this vocation, not merely for my own call, and that, as a result, my writing reflects both greater depth, heart, and a proprietariness which is not defensive but is instead rooted in identity, intimate understanding, and personal security in that. Several years ago I put the matter of vocation to a friend for whom I was trying to describe the difference between a presentation on the eremitical life I had done pre-profession and one I had done post-profession this way, "I have come to "own" this vocation" --- not in the sense that it is a possession I can do with what I will, but in the sense that I am living it, not merely desiring to live it or hoping and trying to live it. Whatever I do I do as a hermit. Saying that would not have been possible in my earlier years of living as a hermit. It would not have even been possible on the day of perpetual profession.

While this of course means I must still live my Rule (one must be nourished to live this life and the daily structures, discipline, and elements of canon 603 are essential to that and to allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to and move us), it also means that they are a living reality and an extension of my truest self now much more than they are an externally imposed framework which I try to keep. This is true even though my Rule was originally written with a focus on a structure which truly fed me, not simply on filling it with things to do or not do. When I answered your question about which element was most important, that became even clearer to me. Once I would have not been able to describe these as being so integrally intertwined that they were difficult to tease apart. They would all have been more or less important, but they would not have nourished each other and called for each other as they do now. I think this reflects a greater wholeness and integrity within me and that is good to see. So, yes I have changed and grown as a hermit and in my eremitical life. I have grown in a way which makes these two things one.

I hope this is helpful and more or less what you were actually asking. If not get back to me and I will try again.

First Encyclical: Lumen Fidei

Francis' first encyclical, the most authoritative piece of teaching the Bishop of Rome generally promulgates, was published today. It is called the Light of Faith (Lumen Fidei) and was written in some collaboration with Benedict who had already done a first draft on the topic of faith as the third piece in a trilogy beginning with hope and charity. (This encyclical is, however, Francis' own and is published in his name as an exercise of his own teaching authority.) I have skimmed the text and read most of the first two chapters. There is some really lovely stuff in here. For instance, in par 13, [[Faith, tied as it is to conversion is the opposite of idolatry; it breaks with idols to turn to the living God in a personal encounter. Believing means entrusting oneself to a merciful love which always accepts and pardons, which sustains and directs our lives, and which shows its power by its ability to make straight the crooked lines of our history. Faith consists in the willingness to let ourselves be constantly transformed and renewed by God's call. Herein lies the paradox: by constantly turning towards the Lord, we discover a sure path which liberates us from the dissolution imposed upon us by idols.]]

In particular this passage reminded me of the readings from the past two weeks and some of the reflections I have written because of them, one regarding Abraham's representation of Israel moving away from idols towards greater and greater faith in the God who will be exhaustively revealed by and in Jesus Christ. The encyclical is readable or accessible, positive, pastorally edifying, and as far as I can tell very strongly focused on faith in and with Jesus Christ himself. The experience of the risen Lord and a reminder of the centrality of a personal commitment to Christ himself in any authentic life of faith informs every section of the text.  The link between faith and truth is strong and the encyclical moves away from any notion that reason is merely supplemented with faith. Instead faith is that reality which lights the way for reason and allows it to be fulfilled. Similarly reason serves faith. Rightly, they are correlative realities in this presentation. Again, I have only read part of the text but I highly recommend it!

One note on terminology. It seems clear that Francis did not compose the title page for the text which says it is from the "Supreme Pontiff" to the "Bishops, Priests and Deacons, Consecrated Persons, and the Lay Faithful." Francis refers in the first paragraphs to himself directly (and to Benedict) instead as "Successors of Peter" --- thus continuing to eschew "Pope", "Supreme Pontiff" or "Vicar of Christ" as titles which move away from collegiality. Meanwhile I have not heard Francis himself reverting to the older hierarchical notion of the church as being composed of clergy, consecrated persons, and laity before, so in this too do take the title page with a grain (or even a significant measure) of salt.

Happy Fourth of July

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 quintes-sential 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. Not least we can practice a freedom which is integrally linked to correlative obligations and exists for the sake of all; that is, it involves an obligation to be there for the other, most especially the least and poorest among us.

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

Follow up Questions for "Our God is not One Who Punishes Evil"

[[Dear Sister, while I appreciate some of what you have written about moving from fear to love and that God does not punish evil it seems to me the Church herself teaches the importance of fear and also says that God punishes evil. What do we do with the Act of Contrition if that is not true? Remember how it goes? "O my God,  I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen." Shouldn't we truly fear that God will find us unworthy of heaven and cast us into the tortures of hell? Otherwise, we will sin with impunity, literally, without fear of punishment..]]

LOL! I do indeed remember how it goes! However, I think the lesson it embodies is the one I have been writing about. (cf Notes From Stillsong: Ours is not a God Who Punishes Evil) It does NOT convey a spirituality of fear nor does it teach that God punishes sin. Let's look at it. First, it refers to dreading the loss of heaven (that is the loss of life with, of, and in God) and the pains of hell (again, the pain of losing the life we are made for --- life with, of, and in God). The gravity of such a loss is literally dreadful and we SHOULD experience this. However, this is not the same as living our lives in fear, and especially not fear of God.  Significantly, a reference to hell makes no mention of torture nor of God as torturer; the pains of hell are the pains of losing our place in God's own life through the choices we make for something less ultimate and less fulfilling.

It is important to note that God is never mentioned as the agent of punishment nor is his justice seen a retributive here. Evil and our choice of that which is truly unworthy of being chosen has consequences. Quite often in the OT literature, a People struggling to move beyond the notion of retributive justice while also finding ways to affirm the sovereignty of God, speaks of the consequences of evil and the choice of evil as divine punishment. It is really only when the tremendous paradox of a God who demonstrates absolute sovereignty in self-emptying and love is revealed on and through the Cross of Christ that the tension between these two tendencies is resolved in an unexpected and literally scandalous way. Jews find this a stumbling block. Greeks find it foolishness. But here we have a God who submits to evil in order to transform and redeem it. Sovereignty is revealed in kenosis. Loving into wholeness is the way God asserts his rights over (does justice to) a broken creation. Punishment, much less a divine punisher, has no place in this picture.

Secondly, however, look how the prayer proceeds; let me paraphrase it: I detest my sins because I dread the loss of my real destiny with you and might have to" live" (be dead) without you (without love) for the whole of eternity but here is the most serious thing for me: I detest my sins because they offend against your love, you who are all-good and deserving of my wholehearted loving response! This prayer moves from a motivation that is less adequate, less worthy of God to one that is far more worthy. It moves from a motivation that is self-centered to one that is truly God-centered. The prayer itself recognizes a legitimate feeling of dread but counters with something that is even more compelling, namely, the love of God (the God who IS love-in-act) and which or who is meant to be our real focus and motivation. It moves from imperfect to perfect (or at least more perfect) contrition. Thus it reprises the very same movement I mentioned in the post mentioned above, and invites us to the same purification Genesis 18 reflected. (Again, cf Notes From Stillsong: Ours is not a God Who Punishes Evil.)

You make a good point in fearing that people will act with impunity if we do away with the element of fear. I think the idea of consequences, however, is far more helpful than the idea of punishment --- which necessarily requires a punisher. We should certainly revere and be in awe of God, but personally, I think it is ALWAYS destructive of genuine faith to fear God in any way whatsoever. I simply don't see how the profound trust that is the heart of genuine faith, can co-exist with fear. Fear simply distorts everything it touches. This is one reason Jesus' gift of peace often accompanies the directive, "Be not afraid" or "Fear not!". So, we need to educate people about the consequences of sin -- including the ultimate consequence of rejecting God's love which we call hell ---. Still, at the same time, we need to help them move beyond an ethics driven by concern of consequences to a life that responds generously and selflessly to the God who offers himself and life with and in himself as the fulfillment of our truest selves. This movement, this growth in one's spiritual life and so, in one's capacity to love, is precisely what is reflected in the act of contrition.

Moving from Fear to Love: Ours is not a God Who Punishes Evil!

Today's readings speak to us in profound and very challenging ways I think. The first, which I am going to focus on here, is from Genesis 18 and recounts a dialogue between Abraham (the Father of Faith and one whose faith is counted as righteousness) and God over whether God will indeed destroy Sodom if a number of righteous people can be found there. You remember it no doubt: God has heard rumors of the tremendous evil of this city and determines he will find out for himself. If things are as bad as he has heard, then he will destroy the city and everyone therein.

Abraham, the representative of true faith, in a remarkably frank conversation with God, asks a series of questions: What if you find fifty righteous persons, will you destroy everyone? "Will you sweep away the innocent with the guilty?" (Remember that when God destroys evil innocence is also destroyed; the world, after all, is ambiguous and that is true of each and all of us as well.) How about 45? What about 30? 20? and so forth. In each case, God answers that he would not destroy the whole city if x or y righteous men were found therein, and even only 10 righteous persons are found there. But what is the author of Genesis really trying to say here? Is he revealing a God of vengeance whose justice is retributive and who punishes us for our evil? Is he revealing a God with whom we are called to bargain or remonstrate, a God who will be swayed by our superior reason,  or who may be cajoled into changing his mind if the case made is eloquent enough? Is he revealing a fickle and capricious God who is moved hither and yon like a reed blowing in the wind?

I think reading the text in this way would be a profound mistake. It would then become a variation on the idea that the God of Israel revealed in the OT is essentially different than the God of Christians, that, in fact, he is a God of vengeance where the God revealed by Jesus Christ is a God of mercy. But this story is not an attempt to paint a picture of a God of vengeance or retributive justice being reminded by a reasonable and faithful human being of “the bigger picture”! Instead I think the author is recounting the history of Israel and her own coming to know and reveal the real God; this history is captured or personified in Abraham's dialogue with God as more and more clearly he establishes that Yahweh is not the God who punishes evil (evil is its own punishment and carries its own consequences) nor the one who is wed to an abstract notion of justice which he upholds at the expense of the innocent. Instead Abraham's dialogue gradually reveals to us a God Israel herself slowly comes to know more fully only through her repeated experiences of God's faithfulness, mercy, and compassion. In this dialogue it is not God’s mind that is changed, but Abraham’s (Israel's) as, with questions of increasing wonder and disbelief, he tries to establish and plumb the depths of God’s mercy. It is a God for whom the concrete life of the least and the lost is more important than the most common and convincing principle of justice while the presence of the slightest bit of good is more compelling than a world full of evil. It is the God we come to know in authentic faith.

When we compare the OT and NT side by side what we really see are not two essentially different Gods, but many stories of the movement in history from distorted, inadequate, or partial images and faith to more adequate and fuller images of God and forms of faith; it is the movement from fragmentary, distorted, and partial revelations of a punitive God to the exhaustive revelation of the God of mercy in the Christ Event. The OT is the record of a People coming to be from members of many different cultures and religions --- and doing so as its members outgrow their original theologies and related anthropologies under the influence of repeated experiences of Yahweh's faithfulness, mercy, and compassion. The OT is a history of the progressive (and often inconsistent) purification of Israel's minds and hearts regarding who God is and what constitutes true religion. It is through this purification that they mature as God's own People and persons of true faith. In today's story especially we are listening to Israel slowly relinquish belief in the God who punishes evil and evil doers, the God whose justice is at war with (his) mercy and whose compassion conflicts with his need for retribution or vindication; she does this only in so far as she affirms her own deepest experiences of God and, in an attempt to resolve it, pushes the tension between these two "theological worlds" to the limits of her imagination and narrative capacity.

She has done this in other stories too. There is the story of the flood where retributive justice wars with compassion and eventually in an act of radical humility and self-emptying God "repents" and promises never to destroy the world in this way again. There is the story of the sacrifice of Isaac where Abraham's hand is stayed by God just as he is ready to plunge the knife into Isaac's chest, and where a different and acceptable sacrifice is provided by God. While this story foreshadows God's own gift of Jesus and Jesus' own sacrifice, it also originally served to proclaim an end to human sacrifice because the God of Israel was NOT a God who required retribution for evil. The God of Israel was different and had a different way of doing justice. He called for Israel to embrace a different religious practice so that they could know and serve him intimately as a light to the Nations. It is no wonder that idolatry looms so large in the failures outlined by Israel. The struggle between false gods and ideas of god and Israel's most profound experience of God's own actions in her life characterized her on every level of her existence --- personal, historical, individual, corporate.

In many ways this struggle and story reprises our own as well. After getting his disciples in touch with who OTHERS say that he is, it is not surprising that Jesus' most critical question to them is, "And you, who do YOU say that I am?" This tension and movement between what we have been told of God and who we actually know in light of our own experiences of his faithfulness, compassion, and mercy is a dominant thread in our own spiritual journeys as well.

In particular, letting go of our belief in the God who punishes evil (or sends evil to punish us!!!), our belief in the God who is the focus of a theology of fear in order to exhaustively embrace the God revealed on the Cross, the God who asserts his rights (i.e., does justice) by loving unconditionally, who sets everything right and fulfills it through forgiveness and mercy, is not an easy task. Everything militates against this; whether it is family history, grade school catechetics, punitive nuns, theologically unsophisticated preaching and writing on hell, judgment, or our own super egos, this is one bit of idolatry, one bit of "worldliness" or pagan theology that is hard to shake.

Our inability to really believe in the power of the love of God may be the real face of unbelief in our own lives and in our Church today. Like Israel however (and, through the exhaustive revelation of God in Christ) we can do it only by allowing  the non-punitive God who is Love-in-Act to truly be our Lord and Master. Each day we are called on to discern both who others say that God is, and who we ourselves say that he is. Each day we are called on to allow our own hearts and minds to be purified by the God of Jesus Christ as we experience him. Each day we are called on to become Christians who believe more and more firmly and completely in the loving God he reveals and no other --- not the God who punishes evil but the One who submits entirely to it himself, transforms and redeems it with his presence, and thus (in time) loves the world into wholeness.

Francis, Bishop of Rome on Living the Reality of Church

[[Dear brothers and sisters,

Today I would like briefly to refer to one more picture that helps us to illustrate the mystery of the Church: that of the temple (cf. Lumen Gentium, 6).

What does the word, ‘temple’ call to mind? It makes us think of a building, a construction. In particular, it recalls to many minds the history of the People of Israel narrated in the Old Testament. In Jerusalem, the great Temple of Solomon was the locus of the encounter with God in prayer. Within the Temple was the Ark of the Covenant, a sign of God's presence among the people, and inside the Ark were the Tablets of the Law, the manna and the rod of Aaron, a reminder that God had always been in the history of his people, had always been with them on their journey, always directed their stride – and the Temple recalls this story. We, too, when we go to the temple, must remember this story – my story – the story of each one of us – of how Jesus encountered me, of how he walked with me, how Jesus loves and blesses me.

That, which was prefigured in the ancient Temple, is realized in the Church, by the power of the Holy Spirit: the Church is the “house of God”, the place of His presence, where we can find and meet the Lord, the Church is the temple in which dwells the Holy Spirit, who animates, guides and sustains her. If we ask ourselves, “Where we can meet God? Where can we enter into communion with Him through Christ? Where can we find the light of the Holy Spirit to enlighten our lives?” the answer is, “in the People of God, among us, for we are Church – among us, within the People of God, in the Church – there we shall meet Jesus, we shall meet the Holy Spirit, we shall meet the Father.

The ancient temple was built by the hands of men: they wanted to “give a home” to God, to have a visible sign of His presence among the people. With the Incarnation of the Son of God, the prophecy of Nathan to King David is fulfilled (cf. 2 Sam 7.1 to 29): it is not the king, it is not we, who are to “give a home to God,” but God Himself who “builds his house” to come and dwell among us, as St. John writes in the Prologue of his Gospel (cf. 1:14). Christ is the living Temple of the Father, and Christ himself builds His “spiritual home”, the Church, made not of stone materials, but of “living stones” – of us, our very selves. The Apostle Paul says to the Christians of Ephesus: you are “Built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone: in whom all the building, being framed together, groweth up into an holy temple in the Lord.(Eph 2:20-22)” How beautiful this is! We are the living stones of God, profoundly united to Christ, who is the rock of support, and among ourselves. What then, does this mean? It means that we are the Temple – the Church, but, us, living – we are Church, we are [the] living temple, and within us, when we are together, there is the Holy Spirit, who helps us grow as Church. We are not isolated, we are People of God – and this is the Church: People of God.

It is, moreover, the Holy Spirit with His gifts, who designs the variety – and this is important – what does the Holy Spirit do in our midst? He designs the variety – the variety, which is the richness of the Church and unites everything and everyone, so as to constitute a spiritual temple, in which we offer not material sacrifices, but us ourselves, our life (cf. 1 Pt 2:4-5). The Church is not a weave of things and interests, it is rather the Temple of the Holy Spirit, the Temple in which God works, the Temple in which each of us with the gift of Baptism is living stone. This tells us that no one is useless in the Church – no one is useless in the Church! – and should anyone chance to say, some one of you, “Get home with you, you’re useless!” that is not true. No one is useless in the Church. We are all needed in order to build this temple. No one is secondary: “Ah, I am the most important one in the Church!” No! We are all equal in the eyes of God. But, one of you might say, “Mr. Pope, sir, you are not equal to us.” But I am just like each of you. We are all equal. We are all brothers and sisters. No one is anonymous: all form and build the Church. Nevertheless, it also invites us to reflect on the fact that the Temple wants the brick of our Christian life, that something is wanting in the beauty of the Church.

So I would like for us to ask ourselves: how do we live our being Church? We are living stones? Are we rather, so to speak, tired stones, bored, indifferent? Have any of you ever noticed how ugly a tired, bored, indifferent Christian is? It’s an ugly sight. A Christian has to be lively, joyous, he has to live this beautiful thing that is the People of God, the Church. Do we open ourselves to the Holy Spirit, so as to be an active part of our communities, or do we close in on ourselves, saying, “I have so many things to do, that’s not my job.”?

May the Lord grant us His grace, His strength, so that we can be deeply united to Christ, the cornerstone, stone of support for all of our lives and the life of the Church. Let us pray that, animated by His Spirit, we might always be living stones of the Church.]]

Feast of St Romuald (Reprise)

Romuald Receives the Gift of Tears

Congratulations to all Camaldolese this day, the feast day of the founder of the Camaldolese Congregations! Saint Romuald has a special place in my heart for two reasons. First he went around Italy bringing isolated hermits together or at least under the Rule of Benedict --- something I found personally to resonate with my own need to subsume my personal Rule of Life under a larger more profound and living tradition or Rule, and secondly, he gave us a form of eremitical life which is uniquely suited to the diocesan hermit. St Romuald's unique gift (charism) to the church involved what is called a "threefold good", that is, the blending of the solitary and communal forms of monastic life (the eremitical and the cenobitical), and the third good of evangelization or witness.

So often people (mis)understand the eremitical life as antithetical to communal life, and opposed as well to witness or evangelization. Romuald modeled an eremitism which balances the eremitical call to solitude and a commitment to God alone with community and outreach to the world to proclaim the Gospel. The vocation is essentially eremitic, but rooted in what the Camaldolese call "The Privilege of Love" and therefore it spills out in witness and has a communal dimension or component to it as well. This seems to me to be particularly well-suited to the vocation of the diocesan hermit since she is called to live for God alone, but in a way which ALSO specifically calls her to give her life in love and generous service to others, particularly her parish and diocese. While this service and gift of self ordinarily takes the form of solitary prayer, it may also involve other ministry within the parish including limited hospitality --- or the outreach of a hermit from her hermitage through the vehicle of a blog!!! So, all good wishes on this feast of Saint Romuald!!

Especially the Camaldolese celebrate today (2013) the Anniversaries of Monastic Vows of Thomas and Gabriel (49 years ago) and of Raniero and Benedict (20 years ago), and the Birthday, of Cyprian! And for those who are not really familiar with Romuald, here is the brief Rule he formulated for monks, nuns, and oblates. It is the only thing we actually have from his own hand.


Sit in your cell as in paradise. Put the whole world behind you and forget it. Watch your thoughts like a good fisherman watching for fish. The path you must follow is in the Psalms — never leave it. If you have just come to the monastery, and in spite of your good will you cannot accomplish what you want, take every opportunity you can to sing the Psalms in your heart and to understand them with your mind. And if your mind wanders as you read, do not give up; hurry back and apply your mind to the words once more. Realize above all that you are in God's presence, and stand there with the attitude of one who stands before the emperor. Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes and eats nothing but what his mother brings him.

Breeze and Buttons

We are made for love; we don't survive without it. It is a law of nature as compelling as any other we might name. That is true not just of human beings, but it is especially true of us. Love allows us to grow and thrive as nothing else is able to do. It is, in fact, the key to authentic humanity. Today I am feeling personally grateful for all those who have served to help allow me to thrive. I am certainly feeling gratitude to and for the God who holds me securely in his hands as I lay down to rest or who is unfailingly present as I "run about" my daily routine. Despite the fact that I have written about chronic illness recently, I want to be very clear that because of the steadfast love people have given me (and taught me to receive!) it is not illness that defines my life but an overflowing of love which has brought me to abundant life in Christ.

Despite scars brought from fending for himself, Breeze (who is just 10 days old) knows love and the life in him is beginning to allow him to be the frisky young foal we expect. There is abundant life in him waiting to pour out and mature and we see signs of it as he approaches his groomer to play. In the above video (which I thought was adorable and hope you will also like!), from a raft of gifts Britons sent him, Breeze, the orphaned horse selected Buttons, the four foot Teddy bear to cuddle with; he loves to do so especially when his caregivers are out of the ring temporarily.

I recall that there used to be a group of conservative Catholics who used to spell love "luv" in order to denigrate those of us who spoke regularly of God as love-in-act or who proclaimed God's unconditional love, expressed in mercy and forgiveness. Today we can find a similar cynicism in online broadcasts that condemn what they denigratingly (and inaccurately) refer to as "the Church of nice"; they seem to believe Christians actually win peoples' hearts by preaching hellfire, eternal torments, and the loss of their souls. (And who, of those who do not believe in God or find some of the parodies once (or still!) taught, would actually believe in these or find them compelling?) I am disgusted by a lot of this because time and again Jesus told us not to be afraid and reminded us repeatedly of God's faithfulness and love; he never seemed to motivate people with fear --- I believe he was surely an astute enough psychologist to know that doesn't really work. In any case it was not the message he proclaimed with his life and death. It was not the message of parables which invited people to enter the story of God's Kingdom any place they could. Instead he proclaimed this unique Kingdom, the reign of a God whose faithfulness and love (God's very self) was undisputed and would never be ultimately defeated, whose dominion would be established in the face of sinful death in all of its forms and degrees.

We are made for love. We cannot survive much less thrive without it. It is the power in our cosmos that sets all things to right, which brings a justice we can hardly imagine with our puny minds and self-centered hearts. It is a law of nature deeper and more compelling than any other. Some may denigrate it or trivialize it as "luv," label it mere sentimentality or even brand it as effeminate, but even a  young foal like Breeze is aware of it on some level just as he is coming to know the life stirring in himself as a result of it. This is the law written on our hearts and I thank God for it and for those who help it to be fulfilled in us.

Writing a Rule of Life: When Should a Diocese Request One Write a Rule?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, when should one write a Rule of Life? You have written that a Rule can only be written on the basis of lived experience. If a diocese asks one to do so right away what should one do?]]

You have put your finger on one of the most problematical elements of Canon 603 and of diocese's approach to its requirements, namely, the request that someone write a Rule of Life before they are really ready to do so, that is before someone has the lived experience and education (in things like the vows, etc) to do so. As I have written here before, the actual preparation for and writing of a Rule is one of the most formative experiences a hermit will have; it is also something one can only do on the basis of ample reading, reflection, and lived experience. This is because it is not simply a list of do's and don't's but a document which codifies the vision and values of the hermit's life in their interplay with eremitical tradition and the world in which the hermit lives (cf Negotiating the Tensions between Tradition and the Contemporary Situation); a Rule is the way she ensures the environment needed for God to love her (and vice versa) in the silence of solitude as well as achieving the goal of her life which IS the silence of solitude (eremitical communion with God in service to those precious to him). Thus, it should inspire before it legislates and it should legislate only as it inspires.

At the same time the Rule is the single concrete element of canon 603 which lends itself to a diocese's directives; for this reason there is a tendency for chancery personnel to ask candidates to go and write one whether there has been time to discern whether the person has the experience to do so or not. Meanwhile, the Rule that is eventually written by a candidate will help allow the diocese to discern the quality of vocation in front of them. All of this argues that, tempting as it is to do otherwise, the directive to write a Rule should not, and in fact must not, be given prematurely. Still, the hermit candidate needs some sort of provisional Rule or set of guidelines to help her live her life, and her diocese may be seriously tempted to ask her to write A single "finished" Rule before she is really ready, so what is the solution? Part of what follows is meant for dioceses; some will apply to you more directly. I hope that all of it will help you to understand what actually goes into the writing of a Rule.

1) begin with a set of guidelines. Here I merely mean a list of those things the diocese or church more generally expects to see in the life of an authentic hermit. These may come from the diocese or from the hermit herself as a result of her own study --- whichever is more comprehensive. Obviously the elements of canon 603 will be part of this (I will not go into those here), but, for instance, the single element of assiduous prayer will imply various kinds of prayer: Liturgy of the Hours, quiet prayer, meditation, lectio divina, rosary, Mass or Communion service, adoration, chant, Taize, etc.

(N.B., Any one hermit may not use all of these forms of prayer all the time, but she should be acquainted with them and have worked with her director to determine which ones are best for her at this point in time as well, for instance, as which ones work well when she is ill, on vacation or otherwise away from the hermitage, etc). Similarly, elements included in these guidelines will likely include study, recreation, work, contact with others, retreat, desert days, parish involvement, finances, horarium, meals, hospitality, home visits or visits with friends, vacation, spiritual direction, meetings with one's delegate, ongoing education or formation, etc. These should be related to the content of the vows one proposes  eventually to make and the central elements of canon 603 so they reflect the hermit's appreciation of the values and charism (gift quality) of the life.

Over time the hermit will try a variety of forms and combinations of these elements and, with the help of her director and delegate, discover what works best for her. Each experimental version or "configuration" of these elements should be balanced and include prayer, work, study, recreation, etc. Each one should show a real understanding and living out of the elements of the canon and thus, the values and charism of solitary eremitical life. (cf. Notes From Stillsong Hermitage: Appreciating the Charism of Diocesan Eremitical Life) Only when she has done this and discovered which configuration best allows for her own growth in wholeness and holiness in the silence of solitude is she actually ready to write a workable Rule of Life which can be submitted to the diocese.

2) At the end of a period of 2-3 years or so  of supervised experimentation (it could take longer; is is very unlikely to take less time unless the person has already lived vowed life for some period of time) and prior to admission to temporary vows, the diocese can ask the hermit (or the hermit may decide it is time) to write a provisional Rule which will bind her legally during her period of temporary vows. It should probably be understood that with the help of the hermit's director and delegate some elements may be changed in response to changes in her life or greater discernment or clarity, but these changes must be approved or otherwise made under diocesan supervision.

Part of the process of  both discernment and formation however involves learning whether one can as well as how to really live a Rule of Life which is considered and restrictive as well as life-giving and freeing. A Rule cannot include merely what one finds amenable at this point in time; it must be capable of challenging one to grow in the discipline and spirit of the eremitical life. Though it must not do so slavishly or apart from significant dialogue with the contemporary situation, it must reflect the eremitical tradition with real integrity or it is unworthy of the name. Patience and perseverance are part of the eremitical life and one must know one is able to live these elements on a day to day basis over a period of years in a way which leads to genuine wholeness BEFORE one is admitted to vows.

3) Six-eight months before perpetual or solemn vows are anticipated, the hermit should begin writing a definitive Rule which becomes canonically binding on the day of solemn/perpetual profession and will be approved first by canonists and then with a Bishop's Decree of Approval. (This period of time is chosen to allow sufficient time for writing and also to allow the diocese time for consultation with canonists, etc, which may lead to a need for re-writing and re-consultation. The fact that one has already written a Rule prior to temporary vows should be a big help here.) Despite the definitive nature of this Rule, a diocese (or the hermit!) should not be surprised to find that in several years she wishes to revise it in some significant way -- whether that is because she has embraced new prayer forms, must accommodate illness (or health!)  in new ways, has grown in her understanding of some element of canon 603 or the charism of her life, etc.

A Rule is a working document, a text for reflection and inspiration as well as being a legislative document. Like the Sabbath it is there for the sake of the hermit's life, not the other way around. Even so, at this point, my personal experience is that the changes that are needed will tend to be less substantive than earlier and ordinarily these will reflect significant growth in one's understanding of the vocation or significantly changed circumstances like illness, etc. One is no longer finding her way with the vocation in the same way she was before temporary vows or even just before perpetual profession. In other words, the changes needed at this point are usually the result of greater maturity in the life rather than immaturity and experimentation.


Regarding your specific question, if your diocese asks you to write a Rule before you feel you are ready, discuss this with them. If you like, discuss this article or others you have read on writing a Rule. Most of the time a diocese merely wants to be sure you are living an ordered life given over to the elements of canon 603. Often the people making the request have never written a Rule themselves and do not know what is required --- again, this is the single element of the canon they can point to for a concrete result. Even so, they are usually more than willing to give you the time this project truly requires. (I have never heard of a diocese hurrying a person in this. Though prematurity in requesting a Rule is a problem, any perceived  urgency is more often of the candidate's own making.) Writing up a set of guidelines or even a provisional Rule which you do not mean to be vetted by canonists or yet shown to your Bishop for approval should be acceptable to whomever is assisting you at the diocesan level. Let them know you are growing in this and that you anticipate writing another Rule in a couple of years when you are more experienced. Personally I think they will see this as a sign that you know what you are doing (and also as an admission of awareness of your own limitations!) --- both positive signs for a diocese.

Feast of the Sacred Heart (Reprise)

We are faced today with a feast that seems sometimes to be irrelevant to contemporary life. The Feast of the Sacred Heart developed in part as a response to pre-destinationist theologies which diminished the universality of the gratuitous love of God and consigned many to perdition. But the Church's own theology of grace and freedom point directly to the reality of the human heart -- that center of the human person where God freely speaks himself and human beings respond in ways which are salvific for them and for the rest of the world. It asks us to see all  persons as constituted in this way and called to life in and of God. Today's Feast of the Sacred Heart, then, despite the shift in context, asks us to reflect again on the nature of the human heart, to the greatest danger to spiritual or authentically human life the Scriptures identify, and too, on what a contemporary devotion to the Sacred Heart might mean for us.

As I have written here before, the heart is the symbol of the center of the human person. It is a theological term which points first of all to God and to God's activity deep within us. It is not so much that we have a heart and then God comes to dwell there; it is that where God dwells within us and bears witness to himself, we have a heart. The human heart (not the cardiac muscle but the center of our personhood the Scriptures call heart) is a dialogical event where God speaks, calls, breathes, and sings us into existence and where, in one way and degree or another, we respond to become the people we are. It is therefore important that our hearts be open and flexible, that they be obedient to the Voice and love of God, and so that they be responsive in all the ways they are summoned to be.

Bearing this in mind it is no surprise that the Scriptures speak in many places about the very worst thing which could befall a human being and her spiritual life. We hear it in the following line from Ezekiel: [[If today you hear [God's] voice, harden not your hearts.]] Many things contribute to such a reaction. We know that love is risky and that it always hurts. Sometimes this hurt is akin to the mystical experience of being pierced by God's love and is a wonderful but difficult experience. Other times love wounds us in less fruitful ways: we are betrayed by friends or family, we reach out to another in love and are rejected, a billion smaller losses wound us in ways from which we cannot seem to recover. In such cases our hearts are not only wounded but become scarred, indurated, less sensitive to pain (or pleasure), stiff and relatively inflexible. They, quite literally, become "hardened" and we may be fearful and unwilling or even unable to risk further injury. When the Scriptures speak of the "hardening" of our hearts they use the very words medicine uses to speak of the result of serious and prolonged wounding: induration, sclerosis, callousedness. Such hardening is self-protective but it also locks us into a world which makes us less capable of responding to love with all of its demands and riskiness. It makes us incapable of suffering well (patiently, fruitfully), or of real selflessness, generosity, or compassion.

It is here that the symbol of the Sacred Heart of Jesus' is instructive and where contemporary devotion to the Sacred Heart can assist us. The Sacred Heart is clearly the place where human and divine are united in a unique way. While we are not called to Daughterhood or to Sonship in the exact same sense of Jesus' (he is "begotten" Son, we are adopted Sons --- and I use only Sons because of the prophetic, countercultural sense that term had for women in the early Church), we are meant to be expressions of a similar unity and heritage; we are meant to have God as the well spring of life and love at the center of our existence. Like the Sacred Heart our own hearts are meant to be "externalized" in a sense and transparent to others. They are meant to be wounded by love and deeply touched by the pain of others but not scarred or indurated in that woundedness; they are meant to be compassionate hearts on fire with love and poured out for others --- hearts which are marked by the cross in all of its kenotic (self-emptying) dimensions and therefore too by the joy of ever-new life. The truly human heart is a reparative heart which heals the woundedness of others and empowers them to love as well. Such hearts are hearts which love as God loves, and therefore which do justice. I think that allowing our own hearts to be remade in this way represents an authentic devotion to Jesus' Sacred Heart. There is nothing lacking in relevance or contemporaneity in that!

Be Not Afraid: Coming to Faith in a God who is already Waiting for us

Rarely are we privileged to hear such personal stories about a Pope's coming to or his vision of faith. Francis' experiences are seminal to his understanding of the way we are Church for one another and the way we come to faith ourselves. In some of the most effective catechesis I have ever heard or seen, Francis answers several questions which had been put to him. He speaks simply; he speaks profoundly; he speaks truth to power and to powerlessness, and he does all this from the heart.

Here we begin to see the key to what allows Francis to speak to the hearts of people within the Church and outside it as well. At bottom is an authentic and profound personal relationship with Jesus which leads to true witness. This is so significant for Francis that, following Paul's criticism to the Corinthians' tendency to follow Apollos or Paul, et al, rather than Jesus, in "paternal criticism" (a very gently and lovingly given paternal criticism!)  he asks the crowds to never again shout Francesco, but instead only Jesu! This missionary dynamic of letting God into one's heart and then going out to all stands at the heart of Francis' faith and the vision he has of Church.



One piece of this video which was repeated in a talk to the Italian Bishops is also significant in signaling the kinds of Church reform Francis sees as needed. Just as Israel was called by God to let go of the ritual and legal "fence" that separated her from the nations so that she might really become salt and light for the world in Christ, so Francis talks about being Church in a similar missionary key: [[A Church that does not go out, sooner or later gets sick in the vitiated atmosphere of her enclosure. It is true also that to a Church that goes out something can happen, as it can to any person who goes out to the street: to have an accident. Given this alternative, I wish to say to you frankly that I prefer a thousand times an injured Church than a sick Church. The typical illness of the shut-in Church is self-reference; to look at herself, to be bent over herself like the woman in the Gospel. It is a kind of narcissism that leads us to spiritual worldliness and to sophisticated clericalism, and then it impedes our experiencing “the sweet and comforting joy of evangelizing.”]] HERE is what we are each called to live. HERE is the "new evangelization" meant to mark each Christian's life. Please take time to listen to the whole of this video!