It is Only With the Heart that One Sees Rightly

Recently a parishioner sent a postcard to the daily Mass folks. Buzz and his wife, Diana, are doing The Way (El Camino de Santiago) and are on their way to St James de Compostela. The postcard quoted St Exupery's Little Prince: "It is only with the heart that one sees rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." Certainly on such a pilgrimage we come to see people in more profound ways than we do when we look at them superficially. In the best cases pilgrims begin to see one another in ways which make them more whole and takes delight in them --- warts and all. It reminded me of a reflection I did one Friday just two or three weeks ago regarding the beam in one person's eye and the splinter in another!

Also recently I read the story of someone who, as a result of some sort of 'private revelation', apparently "fled Mass in horror" because she had supposedly seen "through the masks" of people attending Mass, perhaps most especially the priest presiding there. She wrote of seeing various persons' flaws, seeing raw, unfiltered truth, and she is trying to make sense of this way of seeing that happens to her at Mass. In light of this deeply disturbing experience (for the person writing about it has written about also being profoundly troubled by it in the past) there is some monastic wisdom which is critical to keep in mind, namely, we only see a person truly when we see them as God sees them. Keeping this in mind will help us hear what is being said again and again in the Gospel readings throughout this whole week.

It is one thing to see a person's flaws. That is certainly part of the truth of who we each are. But it is not the deepest truth and it is the deepest truth which the grace of God empowers us to see and work towards.  The less profound "truth" we may also see can become literally diabolical, that is, it can divide, throw, or tear apart (diabolos comes from the Greek, dia for apart and balein, to throw). It divides the see-er from her own heart, it tears apart the one seen in this way by treating a part of them as the whole or most important truth, and it can result in ripping apart the community in which such things occur. Such truth is meant to be filtered, filtered through hearts that see as God sees, that love as God loves --- with a mercy that does justice, a love that makes whole. Otherwise, the result is true misery for all involved. In light of all this I wanted to repost this piece I put up several years ago:

It is Only With the Heart that We See Rightly.

In one of the best selling books of all time, The Little Prince, there is a dialogue between a fox and the Little Prince. It occurs over a period of time. The Fox begins by explaining about what it means to be "tamed,"  and he notes that it involves forming ties with others. He begs the Prince to "tame him" and over time (the prince agrees to "waste time" in this way!) the Little Prince does so while the Fox allows himself to be tamed; in other words the Prince works to become the Fox's friend and the Fox becomes his. As a result the most mundane parts of reality are also transformed. Golden fields of wheat which hold no interest for the Fox ordinarily (he eats only chickens!) now remind the Fox of his friend's golden hair and occasion joy. When the time comes for the Little Prince to leave the Fox is sad, and then he gives the Little Prince his most precious secret, a secret he says most men have forgotten: [[It is only with the heart that one sees rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.]]

In last Friday's Gospel story Jesus knows that there is more than one way of "seeing" and he equates one of these with a destructive blindness which will lead everyone into the pit together. He warns that an untrained person is apt to harm someone and needs to get proper training before trying to act as a teacher. And he reminds us via this story that we ourselves are often afflicted with a beam in our own eye but that we are equally often one who blindly criticizes and offers to extract a splinter from another's eye. We hear one of Jesus' most damning judgments as he says: "You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your own eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter from in your brother's eye!"

Jesus clearly understands several things; he knows what the fox reminds us most "men have forgotten": First, that seeing rightly (compassion) is something we do with our hearts and this requires a kind of training. It is the kind of training one does when, over time, one helps (trains) a child to grow in a certain way. It takes years to "train" a child's ability to stand upright, to help them become persons who love themselves and others, who are capable of giving themselves to the world in a way which makes it better, richer, more holy. It takes years to help a child become responsible for their own hearts as we ourselves are called to be responsible for our own hearts Our hearts are, as I have said here a number of times, the places where we meet and respond to God, but they are also those places within us where obstacles to this meeting reside; for this reason they need to be "trained"  (formed, healed, nurtured, strengthened, aided) to see rightly. The responsibility for forming our hearts, for taming them (what Christians call growing in holiness), is a lifelong process of being made capable of compassionate seeing by living with and from Christ.

Secondly then, he knew that the way our attention is avidly drawn to the splinter in another's eye SHOULD lead us to suspect the beam in our own; that is, we should suspect the real obstacles to accurate vision, to compassion, exist in our own hearts. They represent ways of seeing we have made our own whether they have come from our culture, from peer pressure, from our own needs, successes or failures, from the hurts of childhood, or wherever. Because of this I think Jesus understood very well that we ordinarily operate from habitual ways of seeing and behaving which are less than Christian; we operate from characteristic attitudes of the false self that serve as lenses which distort our own vision and prevent us from seeing rightly or compassionately with the heart. In terms of the Gospel, and the story of the Little Prince, they are the lenses which prevent us from making neighbors of those we meet or know, the lenses which prevent us from loving others, from letting others "tame us," and therefore from becoming friends.

 Two pieces of monastic truth:

Monastic life encapsulated Jesus' teaching in a number of ways, but there are two pieces which are especially important here. The first is the monastic teaching on what are called "the passions."  The passions are obstacles to humility, that is, they are barriers to recognizing and celebrating the truth about who we are in regard to God and others. Thus they are also obstacles to compassion, to seeing others with the same kind of loving truthfulness. They are most often the beams in our own eyes and hearts which cause us to overreact to the splinters in our brother's or sister's eyes. They are the symptoms of woundedness and disease in our own hearts which cause us to project onto others and fail to love them as we ought and as they deserve. As Roberta Bondi reminds us, "a passion has as its chief characteristics perversion of vision and the destruction of love." (To Love as God Loves)

Common passions we are all too familiar with include perfectionism, a kind of habitual irritation with someone or some situation, anger, envy, depression, apathy or sloth, gluttony (which often has more to do, Bondi points out, with requiring novelty than it does with eating), irritable or anxious restlessness, impatience, selfishness, etc. In each, if we consider their effects, we will notice these habitual ways of relating to ourselves and our world cause us to see reality in a distorted way (this is one of the reasons we think of seeing reality through the green haze of envy, the red film of anger, or the black wall of depression, and so forth). Further, they get in the way of being open to or nurturing the truth of others --- that is, they are obstacles to love.

Similarly they are destructive of sight and love because they cause us to transfer onto others our own flawed expectations, values, failings and woundedness.  We know this by its psychological term: projection. It is a serious disordering of our hearts and minds that Jesus apparently understood well; it is a result of our own brokenness and sinfulness, and it assures not only that the person being projected onto CANNOT be heard or seen for who they are, but also that the one doing the projecting becomes more and more locked into their own blindness and inability to love the other as neighbor. The wisdom of Jesus' admonition, "Remove the beam from your own eye before you attempt to remove the splinter from your brother's," as well as the appropriateness of his anger in calling others on their hypocrisy is profound.

The second piece of monastic wisdom here we should remember, and one which is closely related to the importance of dealing with these passions has to do with the nature of really seeing another truly. In our own time we are very used to acting as though we only know someone really well when we see their flaws. We approach people and things "critically," searching out their failings and weaknesses and when we have discovered them, we believe we have discovered their deepest truth. How often have we heard someone say something like: "I thought I knew him, but the other day, he acted to betray me. Now I really know who he is!"

But monastic wisdom is just the opposite of this notion of knowing. It is strikingly countercultural and counterintuitive. In monastic life we only really know someone when we see them as God sees them: precious, sacred, whole, and beautiful. We only see them rightly when we look past the flaws **to the deep or true person at the core. We only see them truly when we see them with the eyes and humility of love. As we were reminded by Saint-Exupery and as tomorrow's Gospel implies strongly, "It is only with the heart that one sees rightly," --- and only once we have removed those distorting lenses monks call passions, that is, only once we have removed the beams from our own eyes will we be able to do this!

** N.B., I do not mean looking past these flaws in the sense of ignoring them completely (it may or may not be loving to do so) but rather looking past them so they may be seen within the context of the deeper truth and relatedness to God as ground and source. These flaws are tragic but they are tragic precisely because of the deeper truth of every person. Secondly, we must see the deeper truth not only as reality but as the person's profoundest potential. Looking past the flaws means loving the person in a way which summons them to realize their potential by healing and transcending the flaws. Only seeing with the eyes of the heart make this possible.

On Stricter Separation From the World

[[Dear Sister Laurel, does the phrase "stricter separation from the world" mean something stricter than the Gospel counsel to be in the world but not of it? You write that it means separation from those things which are resistant to Christ but aren't all Christians called to this? Is the key word in this phrase, "stricter"?  To me the phrase sounds negative and kind of "world hating"; is the purpose a negative one --- like to keep one away from things that might contaminate one?]]

Thanks for the questions. I have written about some of this before under the label "Stricter Separation from the Word" but especially in the pieces on "spiritualizing stricter separation from the world" (cf On Spiritualizing Stricter Separation and More on Stricter Separation and The Purpose of Stricter Separation.  In each of those I think I make clear that the withdrawal or separation that hermits are called to differs from that of other Christians and also other Religious. The term stricter is therefore a key word, yes but perhaps not the key word. Still it does indicate a true withdrawal, not a merely spiritualized one like that incumbent on all Christians called to secular vocations (vocations in the ordinary world of economics, politics, power or influence, and relationships). It involves not just withdrawal from the things which are resistant to Christ, but also withdrawal even from many of the very good things of creation (both Divine and human)  most Christians find inspiring or sacramental.


There are negative reasons for stricter separation, yes, but in general it allows for a focused commitment to the search or quest for God and all that comes from such a quest. A second positive reason is that it allows us to see the larger world of creation with new eyes, eyes that can recognize the truly sacred and hearts that can honor that. A third is that it allows us to see ourselves apart from all the hype, all the definitions and props supplied by the world around us. The separation that seems so negative serves more positive goals. So, while it is important to draw away from the perspectives which distort a truly Christian view of reality, and while it is especially important to draw away from those things which eventually affect our commitment to Christ and may lead to outright sin --- which I guess might be spoken of in terms of keeping away from things that contaminate --- the more important reason is entirely positive: namely, to seek God and to find our truest selves at the same time. Again, please check the articles linked above.

[[Are diocesan hermits considered cloistered? ]]

Great question. I don't think I have been asked this before. I have referred to the diocesan hermit living a kind of functional enclosure; by this I meant that even the hermit who allows clients or occasional visitors in the hermitage tend to have a private prayer space which is not really open to others. I also meant, however, that there is a wider sense of being separated from others, from certain activities, kinds of media, and so forth which create an enclosed space that functions like the material enclosure of a monastery with its wall, grills or signs marking cloister or saying, "private" along with the restrictions written into the community's statutes. Some speak of cloister in terms of papal cloister or other forms of formal cloister marked and governed by canon and proper law, etc. In these senses diocesan hermit have not ordinarily been considered to be cloistered.

However, at this point I think we have to say that diocesan hermits are called, by the very terms of canon 603, to a form of cloister or enclosure. I say this because both stricter separation from the world and the physical silence of the life mark off very real dimensions of enclosure. Silence, for instance, has always been seen as the more personal level of enclosure within the physical (material) cloister marked by walls and grills. Similarly, I am reminded of a comment by Dom Jean LeClercq ** which noted that enclosure could be ensured not only by wall and grill, but by a simple row of stones used by someone like Charles de Foucauld or "even by a simple agreement". There is no doubt that canon 603 calls for stricter separation from the world, assiduous prayer and penance, and the silence of solitude all lived according to an approved Rule under the supervision of the diocesan Bishop. This certainly sounds like a form of enclosure or cloister to me, especially given the fact that it is governed by approved proper law (the hermit's Rule) and overseen by legitimate superiors.

Of course this is not strict or papal enclosure. As in institutes of religious life who, according to c 667.1, are required to adopt cloister to the character and mission of the institute, a canonical hermit is both obliged to enclosure and free to discern the degree of time and activity outside the hermitage which is required by daily needs (doctor's appointments, shopping, Mass, etc.), though one does so within the limits and values codified in one's Rule and sometimes in collaboration with one's director or delegate. One does not usually need specific permission to leave the hermitage nor to have occasional visitors as guests. Still, the pattern of these mitigations or exceptions will be examined and discussed with one's delegate, and perhaps one's bishop, to see how well they contribute to or detract from the hermit's need for and commitment to silence, solitude, privacy, etc., as well as providing for necessary community and hospitality. I think we have to think of the diocesan hermit as bound by a form of cloister or enclosure whether we call it "functional", "eremitical," and so forth. Whatever we choose to call it we need to see it is both recognizable and real; it is also, to the degree specified in the hermit's proper law and c. 667, a juridical matter.

** LeClercq, Jean, Contemplative Life, "Separation From the World" Cistercian Studies 19, p 35

On the Validity of Defining Solitude in terms of Community

[[Dear Sister, if you define solitude in terms of communion with God I can understand that but I am not sure how you move from there to communion with others. I am having a hard time seeing the difference between life in solitude then and life in community. If both are communal then what is the difference? Why don't you just say that the eremitical vocation is about being alone with God?]]

Good questions, thanks for these. Remember that I (and most of the theologians I know) define God not as A Being but as the ground and source of all being and meaning, and therefore too, the ground and source of all that is truly personal and of all relatedness. In, with and through God, we are related to everything and everyone else. If we live in communion with God then to some extent we are in communion with the rest of reality. And of course this works the other way around -- though not in the same way. If we love others, honor creation, are stewards of reality, we also love and honor God.

Thus, when I think about eremitical solitude and especially, when I think about the difference between eremitical life and isolated, alienated, or estranged life the difference is in relatedness in and through God. To describe this I talk about the communal dimension of life in the silence of solitude. Still, this does not make my life one of cenobitical or community life since from 85-95% of my life is spent in solitude. Moreover, the time I spend with others is either in direct service to them (spiritual direction) or in order that I might live a richer and completely healthy solitude (occasional time with good friends). For a Trappistine Sister living, working, eating, praying, and recreating with others --- though often silently --- there are also periods of solitude: silent prayer, lectio, study, etc, but the context for everything is life in (and for) community and the search for God that community makes possible.

I don't speak about eremitical solitude ONLY as being alone with God for a couple of reasons. First my experience is that even (and perhaps especially) in the most profound prayer experiences I have had --- those where there was an undoubted union with God in a way which even involved typical physical effects, either others were present supporting me and/or there were reminders in my prayer itself  of the fact that in God I was related to all others and all else. (I have noted before that in one prayer period I experienced having the entire attention of God and the moment I noted that --- with a kind of awed "This is so but how can this be so?" --- I was reassured that everyone else ALSO had God's entire attention; no one was being shortchanged or disregarded here.) It was another of those great paradoxes that underscored the truth of the experience. While I was not really aware of others per se, I was aware of them in a general sense through their relationship with God. In other words, at those times I was most completely taken up in God I was also clearly concerned with and reassured about others. I was aware of them more than at other times, in part because God, who never ceased being wholly or exhaustively concerned with each and all of us, directed my attention there as a consequence of his immeasurable love.

The second reason has to do with canon 603 itself. It describes this vocation as one of stricter withdrawal or separation from "the world" (i.e., from that which is resistant to Christ), the silence of solitude, the evangelical counsels, assiduous prayer and penance under a rule I write and the supervision of my Bishop. But it also says this vocation is one undertaken for the praise of God and the salvation of the world. By definition, I do not live it merely alone with God but for the sake of all those God holds as precious. So far as I can see this essential element of the canon is no less important or central than any other element. It implies and perhaps demands that my life is not merely absorbed in God as a life of personal piety, but that it is also is concerned with witnessing to some basic truths every person needs to hear and know. It is also, then, a life of prayer for others --- though I consider this secondary to the witness it offers. (Some hermits clearly consider this primary instead of secondary and are entirely free to do so.)

 Moreover, canon 603 says that to the extent my life is absorbed in God it will necessarily be concerned with all God calls his own. While I am certainly concerned with my own salvation, eremitical life is not simply a solitary quest for my own salvation, my own perfection. It is not some form of pious navel gazing or self-centeredness. The focus in not on me but on God and allowing God to be God, not only for myself, but for the whole of creation. Thus, while on one level I can speak of the eremitical vocation being one of being alone with God I think generally this is misleading to others, whether they be other candidates, Bishops and Vicars for Religious, or simply those looking into what a contemporary vocation to eremitical life is all about in the face of a culture taken up with individualism or given over to "cocooning". For all these reasons I have tried to be careful to define eremitical life as one of "being alone with God for the sake of others." Now I may need to say instead that it is "being alone with God in communion with as well as for the sake of others." If any of these elements is missing, then we don't have authentic eremitical life as the Church defines it. We do not have the silence of solitude but instead a life of dumb isolation and individualism.



Artist, Mary Southard, CSJ

In either solitude or community the aim of religious life (or of the lay eremitical life) is the same, namely, to seek and give ourselves over to God for God's own sake (for this is God's deepest desire) and for the sake of the perfection or fulfillment of God's entire creation. But the contexts are different. In my hermitage I mainly do this while physically alone and linked to others through my relationship with God. In community Sisters or nuns mainly do this while physically together and more directly dependent on the environment created by others to facilitate every Sister's quest for God. There is a communal dimension to my solitude (or that of any authentic hermit) but physical solitude is primary. For cenobites there is naturally a strong solitary dimension to their life in community but the context of community is still primary or definitive of the life they live.

An Empty House is a Vulnerable House (Reprise with tweaks)

Tomorrow's Gospel includes the small pericope about the house cleansed of a demon and then left vacant. The overall context is somewhat different than when I first wrote the following piece [we are not reading through Galatians this year] and I am hoping to put up something more completely relevant to tomorrow's reading from Joel and the responsorial psalm. (These focus on the need for repentance and the justice God does by loving us.) But until then. . .here is the post I put up three years ago.

The pericope of the house exorcised of a single demon from [tomorrow's] Gospel passage by Luke provides some real spiritual wisdom. It also serves to illustrate Paul's own concern in what he is is writing to the Church in Galatia and is especially meaningful when read within the context provided by Paul's letter to the Galatians. Remember, the passage from Luke speaks of clearing a single demon from a house; the demon then wanders around arid spaces looking for a place to inhabit. Eventually it returns to the original dwelling and finds it all swept clean and in order, but yet uninhabited. The demon thus  goes out to find seven more demons and they all move into the now clean and orderly but empty house.

The first part of the context for hearing this Gospel passage is provided by Paul's own theology and is summarized by the first lection: namely, the Law, a Divine gift,  functions as a curse apart from Christ. It provides rules on the way we are required to be and persist in being but it cannot empower us to do what it requires. The law instructs us regarding what is truly human, it can convict us of sin and point clearly to the demons which occupy our own divided hearts  but it cannot actually bring about Communion with God. The Law is important, especially as a schoolmaster preparing us for adult life in faith, but it cannot be thought to replace faith.

The second part of the context is provided by Luke's theology itself. A major theme of the Gospel is hospitality. Luke is concerned not only with our call to provide hospitality to strangers of whom we make neighbors, but with providing hospitality for God in our world, and further, with becoming ourselves God's own guests dwelling within the Kingdom of God's own sovereignty. In  the stories we heard this week from Luke's Gospel hospitality figures largely, and so does law to some extent. On Monday we heard the story of Mary and Martha, both offering hospitality to Jesus. Martha adopts a kind of legal maximization and busies herself going beyond the strict requirements of the Law (to provide a single dish for the guest) and  in the process, avoids actually providing the guest what he most desires --- her own hearkening (obedient) company. Mary, on the other hand, sits down at Jesus' feet and "hearkens" to him. What Martha seems to do is something Paul associates with the "curse of the law,"  namely she assumes that if x is required, 5 times x will be even better.

On Wednesday we heard the Lord's Prayer, which itself is about being taught to pray and thus 1) coming to allow God a place where he may be powerfully present in our world, and 2) becoming participants in the Kingdom of Divine Sovereignty where all dwell in communion with God and one another. What the pericope makes clear is that Law has NOT taught the disciples how to pray. Only Jesus (God's own empowering presence) can do this. On Thursday, there was the story of the importuning guest banging on his neighbor's door for bread to feed an unexpected guest. It is unclear whether or not all in this story eventually act as the Law requires them to act (the entire village is responsible for hospitality) but one can hardly praise the attitude of heart or spirit of hospitality demonstrated by (or lacking in!) the man who was sought out to supply the bread, for instance!

And [tomorrow we will hear] the story of Jewish leaders who are concerned with the Law and presumably keep it faithfully as God's gift, but who refuse to receive Jesus as God's own definitive presence in their lives and world. They even accuse Jesus of acting by the power of Beelzebul to cast out demons. Jesus confronts them with their inconsistency by asking what power it is by which they themselves exorcise demons; he then tells today's parable of the demon exorcised from the house with the house then being left uninhabited and vulnerable.

Probably very few of us are legalists in the strict sense, but how many of us tidy up our own hearts in a kind of spiritual housekeeping and fail to give those same hearts over to God to fully occupy? How many of us are intrigued by techniques and tools, workshops, etc, but resist actual prayer, that is, the giving of our lives over to [the active and dynamic presence of God?] I suspect this is a far more common problem in Christian living than legalism per se. Law of all sorts assists us in dealing with the demons which inhabit our own hearts: those of covetousness, greed, dishonor, dishonesty, anger, and so forth, but we have to go further and allow God to be powerfully present in whatever way he wishes. We have to allow our hearts to truly become Temples of the Holy Spirit. After all we are not called merely to be respectable (neat, clean, orderly, well looked after, with the right structure, facade, and all the right appointments), but to be Holy --- a new Creation, in fact. That means not merely being occupied WITH God or the concerns of his Law, but being occupied BY God in a way which transforms our hearts into God's own home.

Despite the humor present in Luke's picture of the returning demons the image is serious. [It reminds me of a commercial I once saw where a family of mucus blobs took up residence in a person's chest; that was somewhat humorous until one realized how sick and miserable such a sufferer would be.] We have all seen houses that were abandoned, and especially we have seen houses owners fixed up but left unoccupied; they become dens for animals, nests for squatters of all sorts, dump sites for lazy neighbors, sources for scavengers and thieves  drug houses, and so forth. In short, they are made unfit for human (or Divine) habitation. So too with our own hearts. Law helps us clean them of all those things mentioned above, and more. But Luke's Gospel also reminds us that God in Christ stands at the door and knocks. Unceasingly.

If we don't REALLY allow him to make himself fully at home, if we allow our hearts to be less than wholly hospitable to a God who desires [to share] an exhaustive Communion with us, then other and worse demons will replace the demons already exorcised: those of ingratitude, self-righteousness, complacency, fear, works-righteousness, arrogance, pride, and so forth. Houses are made to be inhabited and so is the human heart; an empty house is dangerous and vulnerable and so is an empty [ultimately uncommitted] human heart ---no matter how orderly and respectable. Law helps us ready our hearts for Communion with God, but at some point we really do have to allow God to move in as fully as He desires and take complete "ownership".

Eremitism as a Vocation that Belongs to the Church: Sources of this Position

 [[Hi Sister! Thanks for your recent posts on reclusion and the relatedness that is part of that vocation. I read your post on Sunday obligations for hermits last year (I think it was last yea) so I realized that reclusion is more dependent on others than we often think but there was something new in the idea that the recluse reflects the interrelatedness of all of creation. I think you were also clearer about the idea that such a vocation "belongs to the Church", not to the individual. Can I ask what the sources of your ideas on this are? Your emphasis on community is so strong that sometimes I have to remind myself you are speaking about eremitical solitude or even reclusion. Does this come from your reflection on canon 603?]]

Thank you for the question and the observations. If there is greater clarity about the idea that vocations to eremitical solitude and even to reclusion "belong to the Church" and not to the individual, it is because I am coming to greater clarity myself. I spoke recently of the spiral movement of thought -- you know, where the same points come up but each time a bit closer to the center and deeper as well. I think this is mainly something similar. When I first got some clarity on the nature of  ecclesial vocations (about 20 years ago) I knew I had come to a realization that would change a great deal in my own perceptions and understanding. I had no idea I would be exploring the meaning of the term in one way and another for the rest of my life! And yet, this is precisely what has happened --- and I think will continue as a focus for my own reflection.

(By the way, I should note here that in this post I use the term ecclesial vocation in two senses. The first is general, less usual, and means any vocation that "belongs" to the Church, is an expression of Church, or necessarily serves the Church and the world through the Church. The second sense refers to "ecclesial vocations" in the proper sense of the term. This usage is much more specific and besides everything just mentioned refers to those vocations which are mutually discerned by the individual and Church leaders and are mediated juridically by the Church in rites of profession, consecration, and ordination. Ecclesial vocations in the proper sense are governed by canons beyond those associated with the lay state of life. They are public vocations, not private ones and involve public commitments and commissioning, not private vows or the lack of specific commissioning. Consequently, they result in necessary rights, obligations, and expectations on the part of the whole Church, and often the public at large. I have ordinarily only spoken of ecclesial vocations in this proper sense.)

Something similar to what I experienced with regard to the notion of ecclesial vocations happened 40 years ago with the work of theologians Gerhard Ebeling and Ernst Fuchs and the notion of the human being as a "language event" --- which ties in here because this idea too stresses the interrelatedness of all life and the embedded nature of all vocations; people come to be in being addressed and called to be by others. They come to be in responding to these words and in addressing others. They are mutually responsible in these and other ways. Thomas Keating, as I have noted here before, calls human beings "a listening". Scripture speaks of the Christ Event, the fullest revelation of both God and Mankind as incarnate Word. Ecclesia (the Greek word for Church) is the reality of those called together to witness to the Word. Because of the theology of "language events" I came to see more clearly that none of these things exist in isolation; they cannot. It is not their nature. In any case I am coming to greater clarity regarding the profound relatedness of eremitical solitude and the vocation to reclusion myself so there is little surprise that it shows up here on this blog.

Your question is about the source of all this and I think there are five main 'streams': 1) theology (both systematic and historical theology including reflection on canon 603 and its history), 2) personal experience (including ongoing reflection on living canon 603), 3) sociology, 4) science (especially in regard to contemporary physics and biology), and 5) an increased sense of the prevalence of stereotypes and distortions of the truth. Not to worry, I am not going to list all of these in detail, but I do want you to see that each of these areas provides a kind of stream that feeds my own posts here. Sometimes I will focus on the theology involved, sometimes, on the counter cultural nature of the vocation, sometimes on the stereotypes I have encountered or the distortions of the eremitical vocation as the Church understands it, and so forth, but whichever the focus for the moment the other streams are also prevalent and feeding my thought.

A little more about canon 603:

You ask specifically about reflection on canon 603 and here I have to say that is a really great and terrifically perceptive question. You see, the one place where all the other bits come together, the one reality which combines all of these streams or threads is precisely canon 603 itself so it makes sense that it would become a kind of structural or formal center which demands a person eventually look at all these dimensions. Canon 603 is a norm for the solitary eremitical vocation in the Church. It is a bit of codified (normative) wisdom which is theologically compelling, culturally challenging, open to the findings of the behavioral sciences, and immensely respectful of the needs and experience of both the believing community and the person called to live this vocation in the name of that community.

Up until now I have said that this canon is an amazing blend of non-negotiable elements and flexibility. I hope I have conveyed that it is an amazing combination of formal structure and charismatic energy. (How often can we say a church law is an inspired gift of the Holy Spirit? I don't know -- I am no canonist! Neither am I generally tempted to approach canon law in this way but I definitely believe it is true in this case.) In any event, yes, more often than not it is my reflection on canon 603 that has been the source of insight into the eremitical vocation. At the same time that is because this canon is sort of lens which both reveals and reflects all these other streams and sources in a coherent illuminating and life giving beam.

For that reason my own experience and theological reflection, along with the lives and theological (or canonical) reflection of others illuminates this canon so that its depths and hidden contours, colors, and capacity can be more readily appreciated. If instead we see it only as a constraining norm, a law which is merely superficial or extraneous to the vocation it defines and governs, or if we treat it as a legalistic imposition which supposedly stifles the eremitical vocation, we will have failed to appreciate the nature and function of the canon itself and probably the vocation it codifies.

Personal sources, Theology:

I don't want to go into the theology involved at any length here since I think it is something I write about all the time. It is true that because I am a systematic theologian I look for the deep connections and theological underpinnings of a reality. That is just natural for me. With regard to the eremitical vocation and the call to solitude, both creation (where God is meant to be sovereign) and ecclesiology (the theology of Church) itself are foundational here. We talk of the Church as the Body of Christ and of this body having many members, all important, all necessary, all interrelated. It is hard to believe that God would call people to eremitical solitude or even to reclusion (as you say) if it meant truly being cut off from the Body of Christ in some significant way.

While it is true the relatedness between hermit and community is sometimes obscure there is no doubt it is real and critical --- just as so many of the life processes of the human body are hidden but real and critical nonetheless. This dimension is foundational and must be protected. Paul's theology of the charisms of the Holy Spirit and the way they serve and complete one another is also foundational here. We do not have people speaking in tongues without those God inspires as interpreters. We do not have individuals called to symbolize the Church at prayer without them being integrally related to that same Church. Meanwhile, as important as individual salvation and perfection might be the ministry handed onto the Church by God through the Christ Event is the "ministry of reconciliation". Through this ministry all people but also all of creation is to be brought to perfection (maturity and fullness) so that God is all in all. In all of this eremitical life is a gift of the Spirit to the Church and it is up to the Church to mediate God's call to those who live this vocation in the name of the Church. Of course Lay hermits too participate in the Church's ministry of reconciliation in this paradoxical vocation --- though as hermits they do do so in what might be called "ecclesial vocations" in the much more general sense of the term.

Personal Experience:

I have known both times when I was unable to participate effectively in church and her ministry due to illness and times when I was able to participate fully. I have lived as a hermit during both of these and there is no doubt in my mind that the first period was also one where something crucial was missing from my eremitical life while the second involves a richer and more paradoxical sense of the silence of solitude. This sense is a large part of what informs my reflections even though it is usually only implicit in my posts. Especially here, I believe the time of enforced separation due to illness made me more aware of the ecclesial or communal dimension of the eremitical life -- and particularly of the need to be able to participate in some way in the liturgical and other communal life of the Church if one is to live consecrated eremitical life in the Church's name.

Reflection on canon 603 is something I have done in both periods of my life but the relational and ecclesiological sense of each of its elements was something I resisted (it was painful to embrace completely) so long as illness prevented my own participation in parish life. My relational standing in the People of God has helped me appreciate the history of the canon, the place of community in the growth of a call to solitude, the relational nature of the vows,  and the distinction between the isolation or estrangement of sin and the engagement with God on the part of others (and in limited ways, with them as well) which is so characteristic of the silence of  eremitical solitude in an ecclesial context. One can live as a hermit both ways but there is no doubt in my mind that alienation and estrangement --- even that occasioned by illness --- only allows for a partial and somewhat distorted understanding of the canon 603 vocation.

In particular this can become clearer once the Church has admitted one to profession and consecration, when she has, in fact, entrusted one with the canonical responsibilities and obligations connected to the public form of this vocation. At that point one acquires a profound sense of being part of the handing on of a living Tradition. One acquires a more explicit sense of mission which differs significantly from mere purpose and this happens as the result of being publicly and canonically consecrated and commissioned by the Church. This is vastly different, and in some ways, a vastly richer experience of the ecclesial nature of an eremitical vocation than simply living as a hermit because one has discerned one is called to be a hermit apart from the Church's active ministry in mediating this call. My experience in this also leads me to say that in the case of lay hermits, I think there must be a strong ecclesial dimension to their lives and though this is not as clearly established as it is in the case of the canonical hermit, it must exist and be nurtured and protected by the hermit in whatever ways are possible.

Culture and the History of Eremitical Life:

Both the nature of our culture and the history of eremitical life underscores the importance of understanding eremitical life and even reclusion as relational vocations which in significant ways "belong" to the Church. Eremitical life has always been a prophetic way of life speaking the will of God into the contemporary situation with a uniquely arresting kind of power and vividness. In the days of the Desert Mothers and Fathers hermits reminded the Church it had allied itself too closely with the political and cultural environment and called it to conversion.

Today hermits remain a counter cultural reality in a world marked and marred by individualism (often expressed in materialism and consumerism) so long as solitude is understood in terms communion with God and all that is grounded in God. If solitude is defined in terms of estrangement and alienation eremitical life becomes complicit in these and betrays its own roots and nature. Similarly, to some extent eremitical life reminds religious men and women that though communion with those in the saeculum does not allow for a simplistic division between the spiritual and the secular or the sacred and profane, neither can religious buy too completely into the world of the saeculum; they must maintain an eschatological perspective and orientation even as they participate profoundly in the saeculum.

The place of stereotypes and frauds in affirming this vocation belongs to the Church:

Skipping for now the place of the sciences, there are stereotypes and those who would distort eremitical life in ways which are obstacles to understanding the profoundly ecclesial and relational nature of eremitical or reclusive solitude. Stereotypes come to life in real people today and those who represent distortions of eremitical life make it much harder for others to leave stereotypes behind. This in turn could mean that eremitical life will continue to be neither understood nor appropriately valued by the majority of our Church and world. It can also mean that for those rare persons who have such a vocation, an eremitical life will be harder to consider seriously and harder for the Church to deal with. Prelates who are charged with discerning these vocations may instead dismiss them as too bizarre, too troublesome and time consuming, too difficult to discern, and too contrary to the Church's understanding of herself or her communal life to be considered healthy. This means especially that the major expressions of disaffected human existence today (misanthropy, narcissism, isolationism, etc) will be (or continue to be) more easily labeled "eremitical" despite the fact that they are realities which are antithetical to the real thing.

Tom Leppard (see articles)

In instances where the Church's own vocation to the consecrated eremitical life is misrepresented by actual frauds this situation is exacerbated and those without such a vocation may well be misled to unknowingly adopt an equally inauthentic version of this vocation. What is especially difficult about these fraudulent vocations is the disparaging way the ecclesial dimension is treated. I believe there are relatively few outright frauds out there but because they write and otherwise represent disingenuous or perhaps "merely" delusional nonsense which is disedifying and seductive for those seeking a way to validate individualism and narcissism, they can cause significant mischief in people's lives and in the life of the Church itself. Moreover they can do so in ways far more powerful than lifeless stereotypes (which are powerful enough in themselves) can do.

I do feel real sympathy for those I am aware of --- and in some cases I feel or have felt significant pain -- both because of and for them. I sincerely believe these persons began pursuing eremitical life in good faith but failed in solitude and came to reject the Church's role in governing ecclesial vocations precisely because of individualism, illness, and sometimes, outright narcissism. It is these cases especially that underscore for me the importance not only of humility in this vocation, but of a vital embeddedness in the faith community with competent direction and regular oversight. In the cases I am aware of some do seek admission to profession under canon 603 but when they are discouraged from this, or actually refused admission, their disappointment has sometimes hardened into despair and disaffection. Once this occurs their relationship with the Church can weaken and sometimes is transformed into actual disregard for her teaching, praxis, and members. These persons may then strike out on their own while yet representing themselves as Catholic Hermits --- hermits living eremitical life in the name of the Church. I do understand the pain of such disappointment; it is terribly painful to sustain what can feel like a personal rejection. But I also understand that one's identity as an integral part of the Body of Christ is too precious to jeopardize in this way. Certainly it cannot be replaced by this kind of pretense.

The tragic irony in such cases is that the eremitical life that could have healed one's self-centeredness and transfigured one's marginalization itself becomes a victim of these. What could have been a path to significant integration, reconciliation, and fruitfulness becomes instead an example of a withered fig tree which may have lost any possibility of a verdant future. Once again though, this underscores the ecclesial nature of the authentic eremitical vocation. Such vocations, whether lay or consecrated, "belong" to and must be overseen by the Church. They are a signifcant part of her living Tradition, her Patrimony. In what may be the vocation's most significant paradox these persons demonstrate that authentic Catholic Hermits are never those who attempt to go it alone.

One final source, Camaldolese Spirituality:

Let me note briefly here that a final source of my own conviction about the notion that eremitical vocations "belong to the Church" is my own relationship with Camaldolese and Cistercian spiritualities. Any Congregation or Order comprised of hermits or allowing for hermits constitutes an ecclesial context which assures the health or vitality of the individual vocation concerned and of the eremitical vocation more generally. One of the more significant contributions St Romuald made (besides founding the Camaldolese Benedictine Order!) was bringing isolated hermits together or at least under the Rule of St Benedict --- moves which helped curb tendencies to destructive individualism, provided discipline, and related these vocations to the larger Church. Centuries later it was Peter Damian, Camaldolese monk and prelate who referred to the hermit in (her) cell as an ecclesiola ("little church") --- not because one can be church by oneself, but because an individual who is properly professed and/or integrally related to church, represents or symbolizes the whole. One of the phrases characterizing Camaldolese life is "Living Together Alone". There is no doubt I am significantly influenced by Camaldolese thought, spirituality, and praxis in this matter.

N.B., for those interested in reading about Camaldolese spirituality generally or the phrase, "living together alone", please see The Privilege of Love, and especially Brother Bede Healey's "Psychological Investigations and Implications for Living Together Alone". Also important here are Dom Robert Hale's "Koinonia: The Privilege of Love", and Dom Cyprian Consiglio's, "An Image of the Praying Church: Camaldolese Liturgical Spirituality."

Communal Vocations: Reclusion versus Isolation, Solitude versus Individualism

[[Dear Sister, you wrote that hermits should be open to greater degrees of reclusion should God call them to that. How does a person discern this and how does it differ from what you called "unhealthy " withdrawal or isolation instead of "eremitical solitude"? What if a mistake is made? Would strict reclusion make one less a "good" Catholic? I am assuming it would not but if a regular Catholic [a lay Catholic] thought they were called to reclusion would that look different than the reclusion of a diocesan hermit? It appears to me that if someone stopped attending Mass or receiving the Sacraments on the grounds that God was calling them to be a recluse they would be more likely deluding themselves and leaving the Church than discerning a divine call.]]

I have written about the caution and care with which the Church approaches reclusion here in the past so please check those posts. In them I discuss the congregations allowed to have recluses, the constraints and continuing obligations that pertain, and the legal (canonical) relationships which are necessary for a hermit to embrace reclusion. Above all I think these stress that reclusion requires mutual discernment and the support of the faith (including the religious) community. So please check those out for the stuff I don't cover in this post. Much of it is presupposed in any answer to your own questions and I will repeat some of it here for context.

Reclusion: Mutual Discernment for a Communal Vocation

A call to reclusion would have to be mutually discerned and supported by the faith community. It cannot be the result of a whim on the part of a hermit, much less a non hermit or novice hermit. It cannot even be merely individually discerned despite being much more than a whim. Partly this is because the diocesan hermit who seeks to become a recluse is changing the nature and, to some extent, the witness of her life. She has a responsibility to the Faith community in whose name she is commissioned; that reason alone would be sufficient to establish that her discernment must be serious and take place in the heart of the Church. However, her vocation is also meant to be a gift witnessing to the Gospel and for that reason too serious discernment must take place in the heart of the Church. Meanwhile, the faith community bears an important responsibility for the hermit's continuing ability to live an integral faith -- though not as directly as the hermit herself. The pastor (or other priest) will have a role in coming for the Sacraments of reconciliation, and anointing of the sick when needed; he will need to come to say Mass occasionally at the hermitage itself (once or twice a month). Extraordinary Eucharistic ministers would need to bring Communion from daily and Sunday Masses more frequently than they might otherwise --- though the hermit would likely continue to reserve Eucharist for the days in between these visits.

The hermit's spiritual director would need to visit regularly (though this might be a continuation of a standing practice) and possibly more frequently than usual --- especially early on in the discernment process. Provision for meetings with the hermit's delegate and the Bishop would also need to be made --- especially if the hermit cannot go to the chancery herself. (In my experience some Vicars and the hermit's delegate tend to come to the hermitage; annual meetings with the Bishop might be done the same way in the case of reclusion.) Meanwhile, it might be an important piece of the necessary arrangements to be sure the hermit is regularly present in the prayers of the community ---- just as she prays for them.  In my own parish I would probably find ways to write reflections, bulletin pieces, etc which would then be available to the parish at large while other forms of ministry would need to be curtailed. And of course practical concerns must also be taken care of: shopping, transportation to doctor's visits, errands, etc. This would all need to be worked out if the hermit-recluse was to live an integral faith life as a Catholic recluse.

Moreover, there needs to be initial agreement on the part of the hermit's delegate and Bishop. They will have needed to have heard the reasons the hermit believes she is being called in this direction and worked through any initial senses that the hermit is mistaken or misguided in this particular move. Similarly there must be a determination that this vocation will serve both the diocesan and parish churches without being an imposition on, much less a stumbling block for them. (Probably this can be assured by meetings to explain the vocation to those in the hermit's parish especially, and perhaps neighboring parishes as well.) The Bishop or delegate may need to speak to the pastor, and certainly the hermit will need to do so to request his cooperation and support. The point in all of this is that reclusion as lived in the Roman Catholic Church is a communal vocation. Yes, it focuses on the individual and God, on utter dependence on God and the completion that comes from one's relationship with God, but it is also lived in the heart of the faith community and with some very real spiritual and material dependence upon that community. In such a case mistakes are less likely, but they can also be easily discerned and rectified. The hermit who is not called to reclusion simply resumes and continues to live her normal eremitical life.

Why not simply go off and do it all oneself?

Your first question was whether or not reclusion would make one less than a "good Catholic". I have stressed the communal nature of the vocation to reclusion for the publicly professed and consecrated hermit because I think it is clear that when the vocation is lived in this way --- the way some Order hermits and any diocesan hermit would necessarily live the vocation in the name of the Church --- there is no question but that one would continue to be a "good Catholic". But notice that reclusion here is not an excuse for isolation, narcissism, or radical individualism. A vocation to reclusion has got to be a profoundly contemplative vocation but this means it must be a loving vocation --- one where God is loved, of course, but also one lived for the sake of the faith-commitments and lives of others.

The word often used in something like this is "edifying"; especially in a culture of exaggerated individualism where too often license replaces freedom, reclusion must be able to speak to the need as well as the made-for-community quality and profound interdependence of the entire creation. A vocation to reclusion must build up the Church and witness to the Gospel for the sake of the Kingdom while the perfection sought therein must reflect the completion to which God is drawing the entire creation. Since most of this is merely implicit in most hermit's lives the hermit must do what she does in conjunction with the whole church, but especially her pastors, theologians, bishops (teachers), and others who reflect on the profound but often obscure relatedness and prophetic witness of her vocation which is her gift to the Church making it explicit to the rest of the Church..

A hermit who chooses to go off on her own, to turn her back on her parish and diocesan church, to treat others as though their spirituality is of a different nature than her own, to live without the Sacraments or serious discernment with others, does God, herself, and the Church a serious disservice. (cf., Hermits and Sunday Obligation) If we live in union with God we will also live in union with those who also have God as their source and ground. If we have a vocation to essential hiddenness we can only honor such a gift in relation to others who will explain it, celebrate it, and make it known in a world which hungers profoundly for it. One way the church assures that this necessary mutuality and interrelatedness is maintained is by her recognition that baptized Catholics have canonical rights and obligations they need to honor --- whether as lay persons, priests, or as religious. A consecrated Catholic Hermit, whether diocesan or the member of an Order assumes new rights and obligations in addition to those embraced at baptism but she does not relinquish those that came with baptism.

These rights and obligations are not icing on the cake but the necessary rights and obligations for life in a faith community committed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ --- whether we are speaking of the community of the larger world, the Universal Church, a Religious Order, or a diocese and parish. Thus, as you suspect, there is some difference in the way reclusion would look and work for the lay person living a private dedication and for the person living the silence of solitude in the name of the Church; however, both would be called to do this within the Church and with some degree of ecclesial assistance. For both, reclusion is something lived meaningfully and integrally only within the significant constellation of relationships constituting the Body of Christ. (For hermits who are not part of the Christian tradition we usually see reclusion reflecting a strong sense of the significant constellation of relationships marked by one's common humanity and one's place in nature. In fact, all authentic hermits tend to share this profound sense of relatedness to the whole of creation precisely in their solitude.)

A Matter of Deluding Oneself?

I think you are right that someone living a life of reclusion without at least some of the central structures and forms of relatedness mentioned here is likely deluding themselves. To say to oneself, "God is calling me to this; God is calling me to exile" (as I have recently heard this characterized) and to essentially turn one's back on the entire Church and her mediatory structures and relationships, one's baptismal commitments, rights, and obligations may be, potentially at least, delusional at best and arrogant to the point of apostasy at worst. Once upon a time this form of hermit life was acceptable but the Church's rules changed with continued reflection on the importance of a regular sacramental life in community with others.  Today it is a theologically and humanly incoherent response, especially by someone claiming to be a Catholic Hermit. It is one thing for a Christian to try significant reclusion for temporary periods with the support of the Church and entirely another to embrace it as a way of life when it means a form of churchless (and sometimes anti-Church) individualism.

Thus Paul Giustiniani wrote: [[Indeed this solitary way of life was considered more perfect (even if less safe) than that of the cenobites at the time when no law of  Holy Church forbade living a life in complete solitude. But at the present time ecclesiastical laws oblige all the Christian faithful . . .  to confess their sins often, to receive Holy Communion, and to celebrate or attend Mass frequently. . .Now since all these things are hardly possible in this [entirely solitary] kind of life, it would seem to be wholly prohibited. So it is held to be less safe (or rather completely illicit) for a Christian to attempt it, or more exactly, to persist in it.]] Rule of the Hermit Life.  "Three Types of Hermits"

God resides in and speaks to the human heart. Of this there is no doubt. But much of the time God's voice is not the only voice we hear.  Our own insecurities, vices, fears, ignorance, biases, and so forth make themselves heard there and often mimic or distort the voice of God in the process. Learning to hear the voice of God in the depths of our own hearts and achieving the healing that is required so this voice sings with a clarity which resonates throughout our whole selves takes time and requires the presence of others who know us well, know God in their own lives and hearts, and can be counted on to lovingly call us to accountability. Directors, pastors, Sisters and Brothers in the faith and in religious life -- as well those who serve as delegates and legitimate superiors -- all  assist the hermit to be truly discerning regarding how God is speaking and what God is calling the hermit to. To merely "go it alone" is foolishness --- and more importantly, it is apt to be uncharitable and ungrateful foolishness.

For those who experience "ecstasies," "locutions," and other possible signs of mystical prayer associated with "private revelations" the paradoxical truth is that they require even more contact with others, even greater oversight and mutual discernment. Private revelations must be measured by competent persons according to the deposit of faith entrusted to the Church as such.  Moreover, to whatever degree these experiences are genuine they belong to the Church as a whole, not to the individual. 

This is why "going it alone" especially over the long term is ungrateful foolishness. To whatever degree they are the voice of illness, an extravagant imagination, hypnosis, chemical influence, etc, they require others (and especially other contemplatives --- often with the help of professionals) to help discern what is actually going on. Eventually the Church herself may need to weigh in on the authenticity of such experiences and more, their edifying or disedifying nature. It requires others to look past the sensible experiences themselves to the growth and maturity of the person who experienced them. Besides the one experiencing these, others need to evaluate the fruits of these experiences or, at the very least, reflect back to their subject what they themselves are seeing. Otherwise, such experiences are worth little or nothing --- and perhaps worse than nothing.

The bottom line is that both eremitical solitude and reclusion in the consecrated state are ecclesial vocations; both are communal in their very essence and are lived in an ecclesial context. In a less formal way the same is true of lay reclusion. The ecclesial context and communal elements cannot be severed from the vocations themselves nor vice versa. To do so is to make a bad beginning and ensure continuing mistakes all along the way. Of course it also makes it much more difficult to rectify one's simple and sincere mistakes even as one is tempted to compound them because of embarrassment, pride, arrogance, personal dishonesty, and so forth.

Because the consecrated Catholic recluse is a rare and powerful symbol of the Church at prayer, because s/he is a vivid symbol of the Church whose very heart is the dynamic presence of God who is at work perfecting reality by loving it into wholeness through the mediation of this same Church, again, the recluse's vocation belongs to the Church not to the individual alone. Outside the confines of the Church, and especially when there is an element of turning from or repudiating the Church to do this, the recluse may well become a symbol of sinful, and isolated existence instead. I don't think there is any middle ground here for the baptized Christian and especially for the Catholic Hermit who lives her vocation in the name of the church.

Eve of the Feast of Saint Francis (Reprised with tweaks to update)

The first two pictures here are taken of one of the small side chapel niches at Old Mission Santa Barbara. The first one shows the entire sculpture setting with statues of St Francis and St Clare along with the San Damiano Cross in the background. The second is a close up of a portion of this setting which I have used before; it was a gift given to me on this Feast Day the year before last and is my favorite statue of St Francis. The third stands in the (private) covenant courtyard of the Mission and is another contemporary rendering through which a Father worked out his grief over the loss of his son.

Today St Francis' popularity and influence (inspiration!) is more striking than it has been in a very long time. We see it animating a relatively new Pope to transform the Church in light of Vatican II and to live a simple Gospel-centered life just as Francis of Assisi was inspired by God to do. We see it in the renewed emphasis of the Church on evangelization and ecumenism where the One God who stands behind all true religious impulses is honored while he is proclaimed most fully and revealed with the most perfect transparency in the crucified Christ. We see it in a renewed sense of the cosmic Christ and in a growing sensitivity to the sacredness and interconnectedness of all creation.  Saint Francis lived the truth of the Gospel with an honesty, transparency (poverty), and integrity which captures the imagination of everyone who meets him in some significant way -- something that happens for so many in his papal namesake. This saint inspires a hope and joy that only the God who overcomes death and brings eternal life through an unconditional mercy and love that does justice could do. He renews our hope in Christ that our own Church and world might well reveal the glory of this God as they are meant to do. Saint Francis is a gift to the Church in ways which are hard to overstate.

On this Feast Day of Saint Francis of Assisi I feel privileged to celebrate this great man (saint) and all those who go by the name of Franciscan . In particular I celebrate friends and Sisters like Ilia Delio whose book, Making All Things New, I am reading right now --- and which I highly recommend! [It is as readable as her books on Saint Clare, Franciscan Prayer, or The Humility of God and explores some of the theological implications of an unfinished universe and the "new cosmology. What is "new" here is that she does so with regard to classic topics more typically associated with the whole history systematic or dogmatic theology (e.g., the nature of Catholicity and the Church, the last things, putting on the Mind of Christ, etc).]  I also especially give thanks for Pope Francis, a shepherd so clearly inspired by Saint Francis and the Crucified Christ --- and one whose trip to the US I am still processing (and recovering from!). Our world is simply a better place with a more truly Christian presence, sensibility, and spirit because of Saint Francis and those who seek to live his way. Peace and all Good!

Is Vocation Ever Coercive?

 [[Sister Laurel, do you think God wanted you to be chronically ill so that you would become a hermit?  I am asking because one blogger on the eremitical life wrote that without her chronic illness she might well be tempted to live as other than a hermit and God told her he didn't want that. Here is what she said, [[perhaps the hermit would be drawn out from its vocational calling as a consecrated Catholic hermit. The temptation would be great to do so. The Lord has told it in the witnessed presence of [name] that if the physical pain were eased, this soul would be back out into the world--and the Lord did not will that.]] Do you think God would refuse to heal you so that you can keep on living as a hermit? I also wondered how the Church would deal with someone who was so tempted to leave a vocation as a hermit that God had to inflict her with serious pain and illness to keep her in the hermitage! I mean that sounds kind of depraved to me.

In what kind of God do we believe?

My answer is an unequivocal NO! I think it is always important to ask ourselves what kind of God would operate in this way. If we leave the character of such a God merely implicit we may never see that we have suggested God is some kind of monster responsible for the sufferings and tragedies of our lives. I think it is clear that the author of the comments suffers from serious pain and that that means she struggles to make sense of the dislocation that has caused. But to attribute all of this to a God who wants her to be a hermit and knows she would consider returning to "the world" outside her hermitage, and thus actually causes her to have terrible physical pain to prevent that is simply awful theology in any number of ways. Catholic faith's theology of vocation is skewed in this presentation, as is a theology of discernment. The same is true of our concept of free will, authentic freedom, providence, and of course, any other bit of theology that depends on an eternally faithful, self-emptying, creative, merciful God who is love-in-act itself.

Still, the questions you asked are important and the problem of theodicy (a theology of suffering) is one with which theologians and every individual human being struggles. But no. I do not believe God willed me to develop a medically and surgically intractable seizure disorder accompanied by chronic pain. Never! No God worth worshiping would will such a situation. Illness is a symptom of sin, the state of estrangement from the ground of being and meaning. We are all more or less subject to it, more or less threatened by it, and in many ways assured that one day we will know it intimately. Sometimes we are complicit in the illnesses that befall us or those near us. In any case illness is an enemy of God. Sin and death are intimately related and death, we are told in Scripture, is the final enemy to be placed under God's feet. We simply cannot buy into theodicies that make God complicit in these realities.

The Place of Chronic Illness in my Own Life:

But what do I believe about the place of chronic illness and God's will in my life? Clearly I believe that God called me to this life and I believe that chronic illness is an important source of my understanding of this vocation; in fact, I would argue that I am suited to this vocation in a unique way because of chronic illness and other life circumstances. I would even argue these elements of my life prepared me for this call and for living it ever more deeply and authentically. When I quoted the passage from The Hermitage Within recently (cf A Contemplative Moment on Entire Availability) I was pointing to something profoundly true in my own life, namely, that even when our lives are stripped of individual discrete gifts and talents, when all we have to offer is a kind of emptiness, God can and will make a gift of that (of us!). It is precisely this bottom line kind of situation the eremitical life witnesses to. As I have written here a number of times now, human beings ARE covenant realities, made for and of union with God. Their weakness is the counterpart of divine power and sovereignty;  unless a person's life evidences significant weakness and stripping or emptying how can they witness to the unmerited fullness of the grace of God?

At the same time, whether life has stripped the person in this way or they have renounced the use of so many of their gifts and talents in becoming a hermit, they MUST witness to the other side of the equation. When one looks closely at her life one MUST see a life defined not by the things that stripped and emptied that life of gifts and talents (or of the opportunities to use these) but instead a life defined by the grace of God that transfigures and redeems such a life. Here is one of the differences between a hermit and a failure at life, between a hermit and a curmudgeon, between a hermit whose life is truly one of the silence of solitude (the quies of a life in union with God) and one whose silence is merely a mute scream of anguish, between an authentic hermit and an isolated individual whose life is marked by deprivation and lack of real relatedness (which would include a superficial or nominal relationship with God).

For a long time I was unable to see various circumstances in my life as gifts which truly prepared me for answering this unique call of God with a commitment to eremitical life. They really seemed to be obstacles to the fullness God was calling me to instead. Today I see them as gifts, not because God willed them but because God transfigured them in ways which made an infinite sense of them. Thus, I am not saying I believe God always called me to be a hermit, much less that God willed the negative circumstances in my life that especially prepared me for the response I was to make to God's call --- circumstances like chronic illness for instance. Part of what I am saying is that God always called me to be fully alive and especially to be myself in union with Himself; the circumstances of my life tailored the kind of answer or response I could and would give.

They tailored or shaped the form which my response to God's love and promise of life would need to take just as they shaped the aspects of the Gospel I would be most responsive to. They urged me to respond to the Word of Life wherever it entered my life, in the smallest and most ordinary ways --- and in a few absolutely extraordinary ones as well. Especially all this defined my call in terms of weakness, emptiness, and stripping because it was these which were redeemed and transformed by the unfailing love of God. These were what needed to be transfigured so that they would not have the last word in my life, or better, so that they would speak of victory rather than of absurdity, defeat and destruction! The various vocations I felt called to (Religious life, teaching, writing, and music) served, both more and less well in the accomplishment of all that. As my director reminded me when we spoke about some of this last week, God's word (so Isaiah 55 promises) does not return to him void.

Vocation as collaboration:

The one "shaped response" which was truly adequate, to the circumstances of my own life and the necessary and unique witness to their redemption or perfecting is, in fact, eremitical life and beyond that, solitary eremitical life. In other words, my entire life prepared me to make this specific and radical response to the creative call of God. I have the sense that God's call and my response are a collaboration which makes my whole life an expression of Gospel truth and joy. Thus it seems to me that vocation is always a matter of collaborating (or, at the very least, cooperating!) with the creator God who brings life out of death and an awesome and infinitely complex cosmos out of nothing at all.Today I recognize that had the circumstances of my life been different  I would likely have still become a theologian and religious Sister with a bent for solitude, but my call to eremitism is more radical because the answer to the question of my life needed to be a truly radical one.

Thus, the vocation we eventually embrace is something which frees us; it makes sense of and answers or completes (resolves) the questions we are. It is a supreme act of love on God's part and our embrace is an act of worship only we can make or become. Our whole lives we listen for that God who calls each and all of us to life and freedom in the midst of even the worst circumstances. We listen to the deepest yearnings of our heart, to the cries of anguish that result when those yearnings are frustrated, denied, and damped, to the potential and talents we hold and develop as signs of the promise of our lives, and the words of encouragement we cling to as part of what motivates and gives us hope. The response we will one day become is shaped in all of these ways and more by the God who is with us in all things. Each of these is a face of vocation, an aspect of the creative and loving call of the God who, standing with us moment by moment, draws us more deeply into a genuine future --- and in fact, into our own truest future.

The only personally diminishing or coercive aspects of this picture are those supplied by sin and evil. So, no, I absolutely reject the notion that God willed me or anyone else to be ill so that we might be forced somehow to become a hermit. The notion that God might thereafter have refused to ease my (or anyone's) suffering much less made it worse lest I (or they) chose something else is absolute anathema and quite frankly, it is blasphemous anathema at that. Such a "God" is unworthy of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; this God would be a scandal and only worthy of our rejection. To believe in such a God is to apotheosize coercion and violence. It is to transform the idea of a vocation or call from an awesome gift into an oppressive, even crippling burden and to make ludicrous any attempts to speak of Gospel freedom or the covenant nature of human existence. As you have said so well, all this sounds "depraved."

The Church and the Discernment of Eremitical Vocations:

Your question about the church's approach to a person struggling in the way the person you quoted seems to be struggling is also a good one. I don't think anyone I know in vocations work would let a person who admitted such deep unhappiness with a vocational path to continue pursuing it. Above all, my sense is the Church (diocesan Vicars, Bishops, vocation personnel, pastors, etc) would encourage the person to embrace the world as sacramental and push her to seek God in those things she really loves and is drawn to. That is especially true if there is significant suffering; after all, God does not will suffering and there must be sources of life and inspiration which allow the grace of God to counter such difficulty. Since suffering and chronic illness tend to isolate one, unless there are strong indications that solitude is precisely this person's way to human wholeness and profound joy, I sincerely doubt any diocese would allow them to be professed or consecrated as a solitary hermit.

It is not easy to make sense of the suffering that exists in our lives and to some extent I can understand why the person you cited wrote what she did. After all, the Old Testament is full of stories which attribute the calamities of life to "the gods". But more and more what emerges throughout the OT is the God of Abraham, the God of Jacob and Israel who is revealed in terms of mercy and compassion. In the New Testament the revelation of just HOW exhaustively merciful and compassionate this real God is is realized in our midst as he spends himself to rescue us from sin and death by becoming subject to these things in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus his Christ. It is here especially that love has the last word as reconciliation (union or completion) and life are brought forth from the depths of godless death and godless death itself is destroyed forever. To affirm that God refuses to ease a person's pain or even exacerbates it so that she cannot pursue another way of living is to implicitly reclaim the gods being progressively rejected in the Old Testament at the expense of the God of Jesus Christ. Probably we all have pockets of such belief deep within us, but if we are to respond to the gifts our vocations truly are it is really imperative that we outgrow these and allow them to be replaced by the merciful and compassionate God of Jesus Christ.