Another look at Religious Obedience and the Ministry of Authority

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I am not a Catholic and I have no real knowledge of religious life except what I've heard here and there or that I just grew up believing. I read an article you wrote on obedience and on what you called "the ministry of authority" which you defined in terms of love. I have to say I was kind of floored by it. It is nothing like what I thought a vow of obedience or the way superiors worked in a nun's life. When you speak of your Delegate I get the sense you are very close but also that she can exercise authority any time she feels it is necessary. Have I got that right? Does she ever just tell you what to do? Does she ever tell you to do things you don't want to do or feel are wrong? Can you give me some specific examples of how obedience and the "ministry of authority" actually work? Do you ever worry that a vow of obedience might make you somehow less than an adult? I don't mean any offense! I am not sure why this is so interesting to me but you are dispelling some long-held misunderstandings and I don't know where else I could ask these questions. Thank you!]]

Thanks for your questions. My own family is not Catholic and I suspect they hold (or held) some of the same misunderstandings so I am grateful you have asked about the topic. First though, let me thank you once more. You have read the article you mention well and summarized it accurately. Obedience is linked to the ministry of authority and that authority is (in my experience) exercised as an expression of love. Neither do I mean it is exercised as an expression of an abstract love, but as an expression of a genuine love rooted in knowledge of and care for the person's truest self. (A superior in a congregation must cultivate a love not just for an individual Sister but for the house, the congregation and its charism and mission; working with a diocesan hermit is somewhat different. The delegate cultivates a love for the hermit, her place in the parish and diocese, and the eremitical tradition she represents in a canonical way; it is in this smaller context that she exercises the ministry of authority with a solitary Catholic hermit.)

As you can see exercising a ministry of authority is about much more than telling someone what to do. Encouraging another's growth in Christ requires its own attentiveness, faith, and fidelity to truth, both personal and institutional. Similarly then, obedience is a much richer and significant reality than simply "doing what one is told". Obedience is about listening attentively, to God, to one's deepest self, to the needs and potential one has within, to the nature and quality of one's commitments,  and to the way life summons one to greater and greater fullness in the service of others. We may use the short hand phrase "will of God" for all of this but cultivating this kind of attentive listening is at the heart of a vow of obedience and all contemplative life. One of the more privileged sources of discernment regarding the ways love and life call us to fullness in our transparency to God is one's delegate or Director. One's Director/delegate knows us (indeed, they have worked with us usually for years, listened well to us, prayed for and with us, and in part have been chosen for this role precisely because they know us well) and love us in the way every person needs most. They will also be chosen for their experience in religious life (including formation and leadership) as well as their wisdom and faithfulness as a consecrated person living an ecclesial vocation.

On the other hand, by the time one becomes a diocesan hermit (i.e., is professed and consecrated in a life commitment under c 603) one has lived eremitical life for some time, written a liveable Rule of Life (usually after several drafts and lots of notes made over time), and become accustomed to vows of the Evangelical Counsels. One may or may not have been a religious in another chapter of one's life, but in any case one has learned what is essential for one's relationship with God, and developed the skills and tools necessary to respond to God faithfully day in and day out. The Liturgy of the Hours, lectio divina, study of Scripture, a fair theology and spirituality will have become foci for one's life. One will have worked with a spiritual director regularly for some years, fostered a relationship with the Church (usually through one's parish) and accepted an adult  leadership role (not necessarily a formal one) in the faith community. In other words, one is an adult in one's faith and does not need someone telling them what to do day in and day out. But one will also be profoundly committed to grow 1) as a Christian, 2) as a contemplative, and 3) as a hermit representing a significant, prophetic, but rare tradition. It is the role of a hermit's Director (delegate) to make sure one's arc of growth in these ways occurs in a way which is edifying to the diocese and church universal.So, what does this look like "on the ground" so to speak?

As I have noted several times, my own Director rarely tells me what to do --- though she will do a fair amount of encouraging, especially in connection with inner work we also do or when I am considering doing something new ministerially! In the past three and a half years I think she has given me what I might consider a demand rooted in obedience perhaps three times. You asked for examples. A couple of times recently she has told me to do something I didn't much want to do, but the directive was a way of allowing my trust for M. (and, ultimately, for the God who is active in our work together) to triumph over my own fear, reluctance, or reticence. The one somewhat different example that stands out in my mind comes from a time when I was juggling a few different things and was also at a very difficult part of my own growth work. My pastor was travelling and that meant the daily schedule of services for the chapel community had to be worked out in his absence. We try to have priests fill in at these times, but it is not always possible. Although 6-7 days needed to be covered and I was willing to try to do what I could along with a couple of others, my delegate simply said, "Two services, no more." It was a limit I might eventually have set for myself at that time, and it was a directive I could perhaps have blown off had I chosen to, but this simple directive recognized not only my role in the parish but the importance of the other dimensions of my life and the difficulty and energy required for the inner work I was doing as well my parish's needs. My Director saw what I could not and set the limits for me; the limits were actually a relief and it never occurred to me to transgress these.

When I reflect on how this worked I think it illustrates well why ministry and authority are combined in the designation, "Ministry of authority". Sister was ministering to me in this instance and she was doing so on the basis of both knowledge and love. She was protecting me so my own ministries in the parish, diocese, and universal Church could continue in a fruitful way --- not only my ministry of prayer in the silence of solitude, but also what I do as pastoral assistant as well as my own inner work, blogging, and writing on eremitical life itself. Those four words, had a bit of steel in them but were gently spoken and came from a place of love. What I want you to hear here is that no one else (except my bishop) could have said those same words to me ("Two services, no more!"), not my best friend or a favorite professor, not a confessor nor a spiritual director, but only someone with the authority associated with my public vow of obedience. My pastor might well have asked I do or feel free to do only two of the services and he could have said "Let the other two work out the remainder", but he could not have said precisely what my Director did in the same way she did. He does not have that authority. What I also want you to hear, however, is that there is nothing infantilizing in setting such a requirement. That is precisely because it is rare and rooted in a love focused on my own well-being and growth.

Obedience binds in situations where there is no directive, of course, but not in quite the same way. If my Director (delegate) asks or encourages me about something with regard to my health, spirituality, relationships, ministry, work, etc. I will certainly give whatever it is serious consideration, explore what it will take to implement or follow up on it appropriately, as well as pray about and take what action is appropriate. But in these kinds of things I am also free to make what decisions I will. In other words, I listen attentively, discuss things with relevant people, work through them (prayer, journaling, research) and do what is clearly needed in light of my own integrity and vocation. I would say that this is the way obedience generally works for vowed religious (professed diocesan hermits) these days. It is the same pattern I described in another example when I asked my Director if she could see any problem with me doing something very much outside my usual routine (protesting governmental action at a major airport). In that instance she said, "So long as it comports with your Rule, respects your own physical needs, frailties, and health concerns, and is consistent with your own deep conscience, I don't see any problem with it." She also reminded me since this action was public I needed to decide about wearing my habit/cowl but that too was left up to me.

No Director (delegate or superior) can demand someone do something they consider wrong, or rather, no religious/professed hermit can obey such a demand, not without sinning seriously. We  (every Christian) is/are required to follow our certain conscience judgments. Conscience is the very voice of God within us and we cannot act counter to such a conscience judgment without acting against God. If a superior requires we do something contrary to conscience, conscience must always trump the superior's directive. As St Thomas once pointed out, if one is condemned unjustly for following one's conscience, even to the point of being excommunicated, one must follow one's conscience and bear the punishment humbly. Conscience judgments  always have primacy for they are they very voice of God within a person's heart of hearts. I hope this is helpful. The ministry of authority has been conceived variously over the centuries and many folks' only sense of what it means may come from movies or TV. There's lots of good literature on obedience generally and the vow specifically, but mostly only religious read such stuff!

2nd Sunday of Advent

I am looking ahead to Friday's readings for this week. The Matthean gospel lection is one I have written about a couple of times before, namely the one where Jesus describes this generation in terms of children who won't enter into the role-play games common for children preparing for adult roles in their society in Jesus' day. [['We played the flute for you, but you did not dance, we sang a dirge but you did not mourn.' ]] These lines are followed by Jesus'' description of the quality of faith he is finding on the ground, [[For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they said, 'He is possessed by a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they said, 'Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.' But wisdom is vindicated by her works.]]

It seems that Matthew's Jesus is running into folks who are simply unwilling or unable to allow the God who is bigger than they are to enter their world and lives. That's not too surprising of course. To allow the God proclaimed by Jesus or witnessed to by JohnBap  to enter into our own world, is to embrace the God who radically shakes the foundations and ultimately leaves nothing unchanged. We like our comfortable certainties (and some of us like our uncomfortable certainties --- so long as these are known quantities), but a God who is newness and futurity personified and who "makes all things new" can be a God we resist and even reject. Sometimes the really new frightens us, often we simply dislike it, but with the God of Jesus Christ we are asked to commit to newness and a future which stands in stark contrast to many of the values and truths we have embraced and comforted ourselves with.

So, Advent reminds us that God is doing something new. There was something new conceived in a young virgin and in her older kinswoman as well. There was something new embodied by Christ and made real in space and time through his life, death, and resurrection. And there is something new being conceived in our own lives as well to the extent we have also said "yes" to the promptings of the Holy Spirit of a God Who is bigger than anything we can conceive. If only we can let go of some of those comfortable (and uncomfortable) certainties we have carried into this season, Wisdom will indeed be vindicated by her works!

Chronic Illness a Special Challenge in Solitude?

[[Dear Sister, do you find that people have a hard time understanding why you live in greater solitude than most people? Since you have a chronic illness and have mentioned that many hermits do have chronic illnesses I wondered if this can be a special challenge in getting people to understand your eremitical life? If someone says they are careful not to tell folks that they are a hermit because of the response they get to the requirement of  solitude why might that be?]]

Thanks for your questions. Without knowing the person specifically it is hard to say why someone might say they are careful not to tell folks they are a hermit because of their response to a life of solitude. We hermits, whether lay or consecrated, are what we are, and eremitical life is (or should be!) a healthy way to fullness of life for us; we tend to be open about the fact that we are hermits and that this is the way God calls us to wholeness and fullness of life. People may have a hard time understanding this because of how unusual it is to be called to authentic humanity through the silence of solitude, but in my experience anyway, so long as they can see the essential truth of this claim we make, they won't or don't tend to react badly. And maybe that's the key to what is at the heart of the caution spoken of by the person you are asking about: somehow the solitude of eremitical life does not seem to truly contribute to the person's wholeness, well-being, and fullness of life. As your questions regarding my own life seem to suppose, some chronic illnesses might not allow one to live as a hermit -- not even as privately vowed.

I don't think folks have greater difficulty understanding how it is I live in solitude than they would of anyone else. Some are concerned for me and how I manage during times of illness or injury but once they realize I am free to ask for assistance should I need it (indeed I can say I am morally bound to do so!) their concerns are eased. Additionally, my relationship with my Director (delegate) and relationships with folks in my parish faith community help assure that I have the assistance I need to get to doctor's visits or to consider various options for treatment, hospitalization, etc. But all of this considered, what is more important I think, is that folks tend to see I thrive in solitude and are assured that I work with superiors, et al., in order to be sure that continues to be true. Yes, I live in solitude and a medically and surgically intractable seizure disorder can make that problematical in some ways, but I am genuinely happy as a diocesan hermit, and the canonical structures of my life along with other relationships make it relatively easy to reassure people that the pros of eremitical solitude far outweigh the cons. Again, as I have noted here before, because this vocation is ecclesial it is not a form of isolation but of significant solitude defined in terms of community and that is something folks may not understand. When these things are borne in mind I do not find it difficult to reassure folks that eremitical life is demanding but incredibly rewarding, nor that though it is uncommon, it is not abnormal or unhealthy for one truly called to it.

There are certain dimensions of my life, certain times of suffering and struggle, which are integral to what I consider to be the way God has shaped the "heart of a hermit" over my 70 years of life; these are indeed difficult to share with others. I hold them private and share them with very few people. But God has always been there for and with me and this graced part of events comes through in the theology I teach or write, in the very limited preaching I do and the Scriptures I most resonate with and teach. When I speak or write about eremitical life I always stress the redemptive element which is at its center, and in fact, must be at its center if it is to be considered of God. There is no reason usually to write about the various dimensions of my own suffering, for instance, unless doing so really serves to illustrate the degree or quality of God's grace in my life at the same time. My life is fruitful and richly meaningful because of the love of God that has accompanied me in every moment and mood of that life. The God I believe in, the Creator God and Abba of Jesus Christ, is not one who wills suffering; instead he wills life and this means he wills to accompany each of us in our suffering not only that life and meaning can be drawn out of what would otherwise merely be death dealing but so that one day all suffering is ended and God will be all in all.

All of this and more, by the way, is what the Church examines when she seeks to discern an eremitical vocation with someone. The story the Church seeks to hear is the story of God's redemption of a person as this occurs in the silence of solitude. A bishop and his Vicar for Religious, among others, will be listening for the grace that dominates and makes sense of all things as a person who seeks to become a diocesan hermit enters into the mutual discernment process required for admission to the consecrated state. In other words what makes my own life understandable and reassures others about the healthiness and fruitfulness of eremitical solitude is an expression of the very same thing Church hierarchy listens for if they are to accept a person has a genuine eremitical call to life under canon 603. For that matter the hermit's Rule of Life will also provide evidence of this same narrative. Similarly, if a person cannot move successfully through such a discernment process it might also be the case that they will refrain from telling others they are a hermit, not only because it is difficult to admit such failure, but because they may not actually be able to reassure folks sufficiently that eremitical life is really a healthy or fruitful choice for them.

Public profession will commit one to witnessing to eremitical life as a way to a fruitful, healthy life which sings of God's grace and strikes others as being happy. Should health demands or other life circumstances move the hermit away from being able to witness in this way in  spite of the suffering involved the hermit may be required to consider seeking or accepting a dispensation of her vows. Still, while the vows are binding a person may well be bound to the elements of canon 603 and eremitical life others do not "get".  It is important to be clear these vows are made freely and can, if necessary, be dispensed if the calling is no longer truly healthy for one. Meanwhile, if one's embrace of eremitical solitude is a matter of an entirely private commitment (private vows), one is always obligated to keep the superseding values of their public baptismal state. Such private vows will not, generally speaking, include any commitment to eremitical life per se nor any obligation to live under an eremitical Rule, and they may well reflect an inadequate discernment process in any case. A private commitment to eremitical life may well need to be left behind if the life proves unhealthy for the person whether or not private vows of the evangelical counsels also need to be dispensed --- something easily done by one's pastor, in every case.

St Joseph's Dream and Advent Promise

I recently wrote a piece based on a Friday homily which reflected on the importance of dreams and the idea of paying attention to our dreams (and nightmares) along with God's promises, to help prepare for and move us to greater commitment to the God of Jesus Christ. I realized that I had also once published a video with Brother Mickey McGrath's painting of St Joseph and the reassurance he receives via a dream. It is this assurance of the providence of God that allows Joseph to take Mary as his wife and paves the way for the Incarnation. The above video looks at Bro Mickey's painting from various peoples' perspectives. I hope you enjoy it and of course, I hope you enjoy Bro Mickey's art and the way it expresses a wonderfully relevant contemporary spirituality.

From Gratitude, Dreams, and Divine Promises to Commitment

Last Friday's readings gave us a lection from Daniel and one from Luke. Because those readings were preceded by Thanksgiving and its celebrations and led immediately into Advent I found it a little difficult to separate them off from all that was going on both within and without in order to construct a homily for Friday's service. Daniel 7:2-14 gave us the account of the dream of four beasts and the coming of the Son of Man, of courts, judgment and the shifts in dominion that come to our world in light of the coming of the Son of Man. Daniel's dream predominates -- and, like all dreams, usually gives interpreters fits! But there is also a strong element of promise to this pericope from Daniel. Luke's lection (Lk 21:23-29) admonishes us to read the signs of the times and proclaims the Kingdom of God as being "at hand" -- a kingdom which will never pass away. With Luke we move more strongly from dreams to the promise of God's own future.

It is an enigmatic future, one veiled in challenging imagery (multi-headed beasts with wings and horns, domination by these beasts, thrones and courts of judgment). On Friday we talked some before the service about nightmares. One person had said he hoped I was going to explain the first reading and I knew I wanted to move away from interpreting the dreams directly (a sure way of trivializing them) to speaking of dreams more generally. The sharing folks did about nightmares helped prepare them for hearing Daniel in a way which eased their bewilderment by the images he was actually using. Sometimes dreams allow us to get in touch with the potentialities we need to live, sometimes they help us express our feelings regarding the "monsters" which may fill our lives with fear or otherwise dominate them. Whether we are dealing with nightmares and the powers needing to be overcome or the more positive dreams linked to potentialities God's promises help focus and put them in perspective.

Our own addition of Thanksgiving to the days moving us into Advent also helps focus everything in terms of God's promises, God's future. For that day our entire nation spends time getting in touch with all the ways God has gifted us in our lives, all the ways God has helped achieve our deepest dreams or overcome our darkest nightmares, all the ways God has created a significant future for and with us. These three elements, gratitude, dreams, and promise help move us to commitment to this same God and (his) plans for creation. They are present not only in the days preceding Advent, but in the readings throughout the season. Advent is the time we spend deepening our sense of gratitude, getting in touch with our own dreams, and sharpening our sense of Divine promise (including the promise we bear within ourselves and are called to realize in space and time). It is a time marking something new coming, a season celebrating our growing openness to incarnation.

John O'Donahue says that sometimes beginnings take a long time and are very rich; they are as full as the time between the moment an artist picks up a brush and the moment he sets that brush to canvas. For us Advent is analogous; we have a season of fullness (marked by promise and dreams) between the first Sunday of Advent and Christmas day; it is season in which we prepare for the way God will be incarnate in our own lives and future through our own (re)commitment to Christ. As we begin I imagine and wonder what "painting" (commitment) is being prepared by the grace of God in the time between the moment I pick up the brush, the beginning of Advent, and the moment I touch it to the canvas (Feast of the Nativity).

On Hermits, Selfishness, and Friendship (partial reprise)

[[Dear Sister, I read that some people believe that hermit life is selfish because it raised the question, "Who is it the hermit is loving?" (That's not quite the right quotation.) Have you written about this before? Do you know the objection I am trying to remember?. . .I also wondered about the importance of friendship in your life. These are related questions. Also, do you have many friends? How do you maintain them? does being a hermit get in the way of that? I've always thought that friendships are incredibly important for human wellbeing so I am just wondering how this works for you.]]

Thanks for your questions. I have written a number of posts on the place/importance of friendship for the hermit. If you check out the labels to the right you will find at least 10 posts on "friendships and hermiting". You will also find posts on selfishness or self-centeredness and the eremitical vocation. Below I am including one of the posts written within the last three years or so. I think it will answer a lot of your questions even though the questioner had different concerns than you do. Please feel free to get back to me if it fails to satisfy your needs in this; I am happy to say more if I can.

Meanwhile, I think your first questions may refer to concerns Pachomius (4C.) had while living as a hermit. However, others have also raised these questions: how can one learn to love if one is strictly alone, how can one grow in patience or humility without the company of others? Pachomius eventually founded a monastery because he believed living with others was crucial to coming to Christian maturity. In my own life (and in canon 603) I believe the church tries to protect the gift of eremitical life while balancing the fundamental need for community and friendship. Maintaining such balance is demanding and difficult for hermit and friends alike -- but God provides what is necessary here. Certainly the folks who are a hermit's friends are very special and especially graced persons; the hermit gives thanks every day for such friends, relatively rare though they may be!

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I have been thinking about attachments and detachment recently and I was remem-bering when nuns had to let go of family ties and "particular friendships". As a hermit do you give up family ties or particular friendships? If you are trying to live a life given to God alone can you have attachments to friends? I know you write about having friends so how does that actually work? As you grow as a hermit will you let these go? If I wanted to develop a strong spiritual life it means being stripped of attachments doesn't it? Should I be letting go of friendships or is that only for hermits?]]

Thanks for the questions. Let me start with the way friendships are viewed today in religious and eremitical life generally and then tackle the nature of detachment and the kinds of attachments we are called to eschew. Then maybe I can say something about the paradoxical nature of giving one's life to God alone and how it is friendships are ordinarily an indispensable part of that. Finally, I can say something about how it is hermit life changes this somewhat, what it retains, and what might be necessary in the recluse. What you should be doing is a separate question which I think (and hope!) will build on these things.

Friendships are Indispensable Gifts of God:

First it must be said that friendships are a gift from God to each of us and one of the primary ways God's own life and love (for these are identical) is mediated to us. Friendships are also one of those places we can learn to truly love as the great commandment requires. We tend to appreciate this a bit better than has sometimes been true in the history of spirituality. Religious today have friends and good friends. So long as this does not detract from the person's love for her Sisters and commitment to her community which will have priority, such friendships add to her own life and can add to that of her community as well. Especially I think, we see better today than sometimes that to genuinely love another does not prevent us from loving God with our whole hearts, mind, and strength any more than loving God in this way prevents us from loving ourselves or others. Love, which is a transcendent reality and of God, is not divvied up or divided into discrete units so easily as this.

What I mean is we can't treat it in pre-cisely the same way we would some sort of finite resource like groceries in our pantry. While it may be we do not have enough bread and peanut butter and jam to feed every kid in the neighborhood and still have enough for our own children, we are more apt to find that love is like the loaves and fishes we read about last Friday --- there is enough to feed everyone with plenty left over --- simply because this is how genuine love really is. Even more, we tend to find with love that the more we give the more we have to give. To spend significant time with a friend listening, sharing, laughing, and loving is really to open ourselves to greater and greater love --- and that means opening ourselves and that relationship up more and more to the living God who is love. To do that, in fact, is to love God himself and to open our whole world to him is to love God in the way the great commandment calls us to.

Real Personal Love Involves Detachment:

I think the real problem comes when we are not really loving others (or letting them truly love us) but instead are relating to them for some lesser reason. To be "attached" to someone because we truly love them (and have been able to allow them to love us) really implies significant detachment. We are delighted to be with them; they console and challenge and inspire us, but at the same time we "hold them lightly" and may need to let go of them in the name of love. We cannot cling to them precisely BECAUSE we love them. This paradox I suspect was not always understood enough --- thinking in terms of paradox is not always easy for us, and often feels very unnatural. We tend to think in terms of either/or --- either attachment or detachment, but love introduces us to relationships that are variously intimate, fiercely loyal and committed ("attached") while at their heart being open to what is best for the other to the point of sacrificing our own needs and desires (detachment) in small ways and large for their sake.

The detachment we want is that of selflessness. The "attachments" we are allowed -- and in fact are commanded to embrace because they are uniquely human and humanizing -- are those of real and personal love. I don't think, by the way, I am meant to live a life which is given to God alone (nor is any hermit), but rather I am called to live a life given to God in all things. Moreover, I am called to live a life given to God in this way in the silence of solitude and which is thus lived for others. Specifically it is meant to witness to the fact that for each and every one of us God alone is sufficient for us, God is the ultimate source of life and love and meaning for each one of us, the source and ground which makes us capable of marriage and family, of friendship, ministry, etc, and the absolute future to which we are drawn. No one and nothing else completes or empowers us in the way God does. We are made for God and in that way we are made for community.

The Witness of the Eremitical Life:

The hermit's life is meant to witness to this fact --- not in an elitist way as though it is only true for her or for the rare vocation to eremitism but in a way which affirms this is truth for all of us. She does it in silence and solitude because, in fact, this strips away many of the things we might use to "complete" us falsely, to obscure our vision, or which we mistake either for God or for our truest selves. She does it in the silence of solitude (and with the silence of solitude as the goal and gift of her life) to reveal the truth of who God is and who we all are most fundamentally --- namely, persons who are always and everywhere in intimate dialogue with God. This is the primary reason, I think, why canon 603 does not define the vocation in terms of individual salvation but in terms of being something lived for the redemption of all. I think Thomas Merton saw this clearly when he spoke of the one first duty of the hermit. You may remember that he said,

[[The . . .hermit has as his first duty, to live happily without affectation in his solitude. He owes this not only to himself but to his community [by extension diocesan hermits would say Diocese, and parish] that has gone so far as to give him a chance to live it out. . . . this is the chief obligation of the . . .hermit because, as I said above, it can restore to others their faith in certain latent possibilities of nature and of grace.]] (Contemplation in a World of Action, p. 242) While I agree completely with Merton I would say that to live happily and without affectation in one's hermitage witnesses to the fact that the human being is made for and incomplete without God and therefore is defined by her potential and capacity for Love.

Maturing in Eremitical Life:

As I grow in my eremitical life I don't think I am going to "let go of friends". It may be that maintaining them will be done a bit differently than is done now, but generally speaking, I need friends to empower me to love --- and that means to love God too. My need for them is not a weakness or some form of inordinate attachment (meaning an improperly ordered attachment --- one that is not ordered to becoming more loving and holy); often I have thought some of my ability to live without them is the real deficiency --- though that is certainly less true than it might have been once upon a time. In any case relationships can make real selflessness possible and selflessness (meaning being God and other-centered in authentic love) is both the heart and the purpose of detachment. It remains true that I am open to being called to reclusion and if that happens the time and contact necessary for friendships will be even further significantly limited, but at this time I don't think this is where I am being called.

It should be clear from all that I have said that growth in the spiritual life does not necessarily mean letting go of authentic friendships. It is far more likely to demand their cultivation --- something we should be aware of in this time and culture of superficial and utilitarian "friending!" Sometimes the literature of exclusion and separation was simply selfish (and not particularly Christian); it failed to see that love of God and love of others are inextricably intertwined and in some ways it prevented even the genuine friendships that are so necessary for growth. That is as true for the hermit as it is for everyone else.  In fact it should be noted that the capacity for authentic friendships and relationships generally is presupposed in eremitical life; this is one reason it is considered a second half of life vocation or is perceived as being possible only after years of  formation in monastic life. For the hermit the relationship with God is always given absolute priority, and this must occur in the silence of solitude -- which limits and conditions the friendships which are possible. Still, so long as the hermit is faithful in observing these priorities she may very well find her vocation calls for a few really special friendships as well. The hermit may not see these friends often but their love supports and challenges her in ways a solitary vocation really requires.

First Sunday in Advent (Reprise)

 All good wishes on this first Sunday of Advent! "Adventus" is a season where we prepare to see the surprising ways God works in our lives, where we are especially cognizant of the choices which allow God to be active deep within our own hearts and within our larger world; it is where we learn to look more closely and attentively at everything within and around so that we are prepared to respond as fully as possible to this God of newness and surprises.

For many of us there is a paring down to the essentials in order to make all this possible. We also take greater care and time with our own self-inventory, our own inner work --- especially as that allows the life of God to move through and fill us. And of course, we make sure there is sufficient silence to truly hear the movements of our own hearts and the God who would be Emmanuel by taking up complete residence there. These are the really essential "preparations for Christmas" which put shopping and other things we also must do in their proper place.

I find it awesome to consider that the God who would "tent" among us has chosen my own heart and soul, my own mind and body --- with all of their flaws and weaknesses --- to reveal the fullness and perfection of Divine love made manifest in Christ. But through the past months I have watched the greening of new life nascent within me; I have seen it where I thought it could never be and sometimes where I thought it had been quenched forever. Ours is a God of newness and life and we are called to allow these to spring up within us wherever they will. He is faithful beyond telling and does not disappoint. So I am reminded that the season begins with a single candle in the darkness. It will end with a blaze of light and warmth -- and especially that of the light of Christ within us --- if only we allow it.

 May these weeks of preparation see the kindling of new life and light even when it begins with a small and sometimes stuttering flame in the midst of great darkness. Especially may we all come to know more intimately the surprising God of newness who takes up residence and "tents" within and among us in Christ; He is the God who treasures our poverty and weakness and transforms and transfigures them into the mangers and lamps of his life and love.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Thanksgiving is here and I celebrated a bit last night with my director. We worked for a couple of hours in the afternoon then went to the movies to see Harriet! Wow, what a powerful movie! Difficult to watch in places, suspenseful, scary, an appalling part of our American history with regard to slavery  and the way we have and still find it possible to treat others as though they are less than human!! But equally powerful was Harriet Tubman's drive to bring those she loved to freedom and a fullness of life slavery prevents. Freedom or death!! Sometimes Harriet's actions seemed reckless or at least imprudent, but at bottom Harriet would settle for nothing less than fullness of life -- for herself or for others! It is the impulse and commitment that drives Sister Marietta and my work together -- and I think, any authentic spiritual direction relationship. Afterward we went nearby to Zachery's for pizza and conversation -- it was actually my first Zachary pizza (we have no Zachery's in my town) and one of the best I have ever had (thin crust with an amazingly spiced chicken)! 

We had considered seeing the Mr Rogers movie; one comment I heard from Bro Mickey McGrath (he's staying here at St P's for a week of vacation and had seen both movies) was, "A lot of beautiful moments; reminded me of spiritual direction." In today's homily Fr John (also an Oblate of St Francis de Sales) recounted one of these: Mr Rogers is being interviewed by a journalist and is struck by the man's pessimism and cynicism. Rogers wonders what is behind it and then asks him to spend a minute of silence to get in touch with his gratitude for those who have "loved him into existence". The focus shifts from the journalist to the others in the room and then to all those sitting in the theatre. All are thus invited to spend a minute of silence getting in touch with their gratitude for those who have loved them into fullness of life. We did the same right there during the homily. It was very powerful.

Either movie would have been fitting for celebrations of life, freedom, and mutual gratitude. I do this rarely but going to the show was a perfect way to mark the Thanksgiving holiday and God's presence and love in our lives --- especially as it is mediated in and sustains Marietta and my work together. It also seemed perfect timing that I had just finished a twelve week series on Galatians, Paul's "magna carta" on Christian Freedom -- not to mention having just gotten news that someone I have assisted some over the past several years is being admitted to perpetual profession as a c 603 hermit in the next few months! The experience of synchronicity has been prevalent during the past several months  --- often in truly awesome ways; it is very clear that all things work together in the love of God. So much to be thankful for!! My sincerest wish and hope that each and all of us continue to be touched by God's love in ways that bring us to greater and greater gratitude and abundance of life! Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Why I do not Remain Anonymous

[[Sister Laurel, why don't you insist on anonymity? I read where one Catholic Hermit says she wants to remain anonymous as part of her hiddenness, though she has at least a couple of blogs (she has dropped the pseudonym Joyful Hermit) and has made videos as well. She points out that some communities have hermits who publish anonymously so she sees this as common. I wondered how you think about this and your own blogging.]]

Thanks for your questions. Similar questions have been posed here a number of times so you might check the labels to the right. To repeat a lot of that, I am a  (solitary) Catholic Hermit which means I am publicly professed and consecrated to live eremitical life in the name of the Church. When my bishop presented me with my cowl he very specifically did so at the part of the liturgy that commissioned me to take this sign of my consecration and minister faithfully in the name of the Church. While I could certainly decide to remain anonymous I would at least need to identify myself as a "Hermit of  the Diocese of Oakland" (as, in addition to my name, I am identified in the affidavit given to attest to my public profession and consecration). Because my vocation is a public one it is associated with public rights and obligations, and also with expectations others have every right to hold in my regard. To claim to be a Catholic Hermit or a consecrated Catholic Hermit means to accept and even claim that others have the right to verify such claims. It seems to me that one needs either to remain entirely hidden (no blogging, no videos, no online participation) or to be open about who one is. As I have said before, the moment one claims to be a Catholic Hermit, one ceases to be able to remain entirely anonymous; at the very least one is obligated to provide (or indicate) the identity of one's legitimate superior and/or diocese as a necessary expression of the accountability associated with the vocation.

Note well that when Carthusian or Camaldolese hermits, for instance, publish anonymously, they also indicate their congregation or order. The congregation or order accepts responsibility for the book or piece being published and add their name; often they will run the work past censors in the order before allowing it to be published (less common today than was once true). Whether censored or not, the fundamental point however remains, namely, anonymity for someone claiming to be a Catholic monk, nun, or hermit is linked to a very real accountability and thus, to canonical structures and relationships even when one's name is not used. If one ministers in the name of the Church (including contemplative lives of assiduous prayer and penance), then one is publicly accountable both for one's identity and for one's ministry. One cannot claim to be a Catholic hermit (not a Catholic and a hermit, but a Catholic hermit) without also taking on the accountability related to it. Yes, there are frauds or counterfeits out there (the author of A Catholic Hermit blog is, though perhaps without knowing this, one such counterfeit; she claims the rights of such a vocation without accepting the responsibilities or obligations linked to these); in any case, those who are truly Catholic Hermits living ecclesial vocations will be identifiable by name and/or in terms of the diocese or order which has admitted them canonically to profession and consecration.

Thus, (and I sincerely hope some of this is new!) I do not remain anonymous because I am legally and morally accountable for what I  write here as part of a public ecclesial vocation and because I attempt to live a solitary eremitical life in a way which is edifying to others. My commitment is not a private one though it is essentially hidden. I write in the way I do because I believe it is a service for this vocation and for the Church more generally, and because, to the extent this is true, I am sometimes consulted on this vocation. I do it because God, through the whole of my life, has formed me for this while through the Church's own discernment God has entrusted me with such a unique call and the challenge to explore its depths, breadth, and contemporary shape. I also do it so folks can contend with, deepen. or correct my own insufficient understanding and misunderstandings. Canon 603 hermits are a new and relatively rare breed of hermit life; it is similar to all other forms of Catholic eremitical life but it also differs in the way accountability is established and exercised. People need to understand this --- especially those who have never heard of the vocation, those who might consider it for themselves, and those who might be taken in by those showing up at their parish claiming to be a Catholic Hermit who won't participate in the liturgical life of the community or even give their name because of claims regarding the demands of "eremitical hiddenness".

I don't think I approach your questions much differently than any other canonical hermit. We don't refuse to remain anonymous because of arrogance or "vainglory"; we do so because the way to this ecclesial vocation has been long, sometimes arduous and even traumatic, but always a rewarding journey to find our path to remain faithful to God, to our truest selves, and to the call to love one another in and as Christ loves. God takes improbable personal stories and transforms them into the rare but very real love stories of hermits. I and the other Catholic hermits I know exult in the gift God makes of our lives in this way. We embrace an essential hiddenness and witness to it as well. This paradox of our vocations (canonically public and responsible yet also hidden) matches the paradox of what God has done with our weakness and personal inadequacy, but also with our potential for covenantal life; it is an awesome thing we are called to, an awesome thing we live and witness to.

I hope this is helpful.

On Eremitical Hiddenness: Crucified with Christ, Hidden With Christ in God

The question of eremitical hiddenness continues to be raised and some have wondered how it is I can be involved in a parish, much less be teaching Scripture there or being identifiable and known as both a nun and a canonical hermit when the Catechism describes eremitical life in terms of hiddenness. I wrote recently in Hiddenness as Derivative Value, that the hiddenness of the hermit is not primary but secondary to more fundamental values like stricter separation from the world, the silence of solitude, and assiduous prayer and penance. What all of this has in common, what each of these terms from canon 603 share is their description of what it means to exist in Christ. Existence in Christ means being crucified with him and also being raised to new life in him. There is a dying to self and the world and a rising to new life in Christ involved in each of these canonical terms defining eremitical life in the Church. Another term describing each of these is being "Hidden with Christ in God" (Col 3:3).

It should be no surprise that a life lived more and more in Christ and less and less in terms of the world (that which is contrary to Christ, is resistant to Christ, or which seeks to be its own source of life and meaning) should also be described in terms of hiddenness. We are all called to be hidden with Christ in God. Our very humanity, to the extent it is authentic is, like Jesus' own, utterly transparent to God. Hiddenness in God is a way of saying truly human! Hermits are called to this in a way which accentuates not only its possibility but its truth. After all, the truth that we achieve authentic humanity in a way which involves dying to self and living a life which is transparent to God is a difficult thing to get our heads and hearts around. The paradox of living a public vocation of hiddenness in God is also something that sounds incoherent or nonsensical as does living a vocation in solidarity with others and ministry to others when we remind one another that that is actually also the shape of a solitary (eremitical) life hidden in God.

But of course the physical silence, external solitude, and "silence of solitude" which is the goal and charism of eremitical life work as powerful and paradigmatic symbols of this hiddenness. So do prayer and penance which are always so profoundly linked to dying to the self which is something less than our truest, deepest self. Because hermits say with their lives that God alone is sufficient for us ("(God's) grace is sufficient for you, my power is perfected in weakness,") so also do we speak of hiddenness with Christ in God through our commitment to prayer. We live our lives in a solitary and God-centered way so that in us others hear and see the life and consolation of God in Christ at work bringing us to wholeness and holiness. We are essentially freed from trying to make a name for ourselves, trying to live a life measured in terms of usual achievement and success, and live out lives in the name of God and -- for canonical (consecrated) hermits -- in the name of the Church. We will even mainly give many of our discrete gifts and talents over to a life relatively free of apostolic ministry so our witness to the Gospel of God's sufficiency and gratuitous love is as radical as we can make it.

How ever we define hiddenness in our individual Rule of Life, we must begin with Col 3:3 (or similar passages) and the theology underpinning these. We cannot start from Webster's dictionary and what it says of hiddenness. Still less can we use it as an excuse for misanthropy, social failure,  psychologically disordered withdrawal from others, or the other stereotypes so deeply connected to misunderstandings of hermit life. Neither can we treat hiddenness as a primary value that stands on its own; instead it must be seen as a derivative value stemming from more fundamental realities like participation in Christ, assiduous prayer, the silence of solitude, etc. These are the foundational realities that give hiddenness its true content and meaning; they are what allow us to understand it in terms of transparency to God and God's own revelation through us; they allow us to see hiddenness as profoundly allied with incarnation and authentic humanity. As I noted in the September post, hiddenness is a derivative reality, the result of death and resurrection with Christ in God which can only serve paradoxically as a form of witness.

Folks have asked about my own ministry and life in my parish. It should be noted that hermits have always been seen as living in the heart of the Church, and in some ways representing a dimension of that very heart. Solitary consecrated hermits today (c 603 hermits) are professed either in their Cathedral and/or parish church in the hands of their bishop; this marks the fact that they are called forth from the midst of the People of God, especially as embodied in this local faith community. The local church is responsible for assuring access to the Sacraments for the hermit just as the hermit is responsible for receiving these regularly and for sharing in the faith life of this Church. Eremitical hiddenness is not a sufficient reason for failing to be an integral part of one's faith community; if hiddenness enters the equation the hermit (along with her bishop and pastor) should find ways to simultaneously underscore her integral place in her parish. Since she has been commissioned to live this life in the name of the Church, her life really must be lived concretely in the heart of the Church.

My own limited ministry (including teaching Scripture or doing spiritual direction) is part of the very natural outgrowth or overflow of the way God has loved and acted to bring me to completion in the silence of solitude, but also through the life of the Church. It is the celebration of who God and God's Messiah are for me and a way to share this. And, it is a way of thanking God and those people who are part of my parish family. At the same time it is an  important way I grow in Christ and in my capacity to love. It is the fruit of my solitude (a unique expression of community) with and in God and it calls me back to that. I have carefully discerned this with my director and it is something we both keep our eyes on. But some ask how I can do this or be known as a hermit and the answers include: 1) the Church, under whose specific authority I live this life allows limited ministry and requires self-support, 2) my Rule (approved with a Bishop's decree of approval) allows it and in fact, identifies it as important for my own well-being, 3) it enhances my life in Christ in solitude and is the fruit of that, and 4) limited ministry including teaching a bit of Scripture and doing direction is, again, carefully discerned with the assistance of those responsible for this.

Faith makes Science Possible, Science Makes Faith Necessary

I did a homily yesterday on the first reading from Wisdom (Wis 13:1-9), a reading which, though written about 100 years before Christ, I found to be incredibly contemporary. The text reminds us of the wonders of nature and how they point beyond themselves to the One who created them; it also condemns those who cannot allow the revelation of nature to be what it really is in this way. What is incredibly contemporary is the way we find ourselves in continuing debates about the relation of science and faith, whether "nature is enough" to answer the profound questions we humans have and are or whether there must be something we call God. One of the authors I read regularly is John Haught and one of his books is entitled Is Nature Enough? Haught argues that nature alone is not enough to give our lives a sense of meaning or to provide an answer to our religious desires and needs. Others like Loyal Rue write direct responses to Haught entitled Nature is Enough and argue just the opposite; nature does not need to point beyond itself but is sufficient to account for our religious desires and need for meaning (and supposedly to answer these as well).

Theologians point out that faith or at least pre-faith is necessary to even engage in science. Scientists make a decision; they chose to trust that the world is intelligible, that it makes sense and hangs together enough to make science, the disciplined, ordered empirical exploration of nature possible and meaningful. Again, this decision that nature can be understood and explored in a meaningful way and that human beings are capable of doing this is the necessary pre-condition for doing science at all. Theologians understand that faith and the existence of God doesn't conflict with science but makes it possible. More, our belief in the infinite God who ultimately grounds the existence and meaningfulness of reality ensures that scientists can go on doing science without ever reaching a limit to reality's intelligibility. The idea that nature itself is enough to account for and satisfy our desires and needs for meaning, truth, or God is new and naïve  -- though it is a better response to faith than simply vilifying those who are believers as unintelligent or unreasonably credulous.

A related question theologians feel compelled to ask themselves and scientists is, "Why is there something and not nothing?" Everything that exists has a beginning and ultimately there must be something or someone that is the ground and source of everything that is and has existed. We cannot have infinite regress; if behind everything is nothing at all then order is chimerical at best and our world is essentially absurd. Nothing comes from nothing so the question about why there is anything at all throws scientists back upon an ultimate source or cause that must exist and must itself be "uncreated" and infinite. When we combine this question about being and the former related question about the meaningfulness or intelligibility of all that exists, we have the question of God, the One theologians identify as the ground and source of being and meaning, the One we affirm is the source and ground of the order, truth, beauty, depth, diversity, energy, and power of all we know.

The author of Wisdom looked at the world around him and felt awe as it revealed the existence of God to him. He felt denial of the existence of God was foolish but could understand where some could mistake nature for the creator of nature. After all, nature is profoundly beautiful and powerful; it has an order, scope, and energy beyond anything else we can point to. And today we find scientists and philosophers writing books like Nature is Enough. Most of us are not directly involved in doing science or theology in academic or professional ways, but as believers, we are called to be attentive to God's creation. For us, yesterday's first reading calls us to cultivate a sense of wonder at all we see. We are called to stand in some awe at the incredible order of our world and at the fact that we can know this world, explore it scientifically, and come to see and understand ever greater depths of order and beauty, come to ever greater knowledge. Faith and Science are complementary realities, complementary, not opposing, ways of knowing. As we cultivate the wonder and awe creation inspires, I think we are called to recognize that while some degree of faith makes science possible, science actually makes faith necessary. That is the nature of the world Wisdom's author extols and what he urges us to truly appreciate.

Seeking God: What does this Mean?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I wondered what it means in monasticism to say one is "seeking God", I mean it's not like God is actually lost or something! Also one is entering a monastery where one is pretty sure God is present. Why do Benedictines define their lives or, I guess, the purpose of their lives as "seeking God"?]]

LOL! It's a serious question and yes, the phrase is a bit enigmatic isn't it? But you have actually implicitly answered the question in your own lightly poking fun at it. We can imagine someone wandering all over the place in search of God, and of course, we can imagine such a person eventually coming to the monastery to focus and deepen their search precisely because there is good reason to believe God may be found in a privileged way there. But once a search for God is narrowed in this way why would Benedictines define their lives in terms of "seeking God"?

As you say, it is true that God is not lost, but in some ways we and our world certainly are. The person we described earlier is looking for God and is thus simultaneously engaged in seeking her own truest self. She and we are each in search of a life which is meaningful; we are looking for a life that fulfills all the potential we carry (by the grace of God) deep within ourselves, a life that is purposeful and coherent; this is inherently wrapped up with the search for God. We find and embrace our truest selves only to the extent we find and are "found" and embraced by God. To commit to seeking God is to commit to finding, claiming, and thus becoming our truest selves in God; it is to commit to finding our way home to, with, and in God and it is to commit to living this "at-home-ness" wherever we are or go so that our lives are transparent to God's in the same way.

Another way of saying we are seeking God is to say we are seeking the best way possible for us to learn to love, to actually love, and to be loved into wholeness. These goals overlap and are dependent upon one another. Especially we cannot learn to love nor love without being loved; we cannot learn or be empowered to love as exhaustively as we are called to love without allowing ourselves to be loved in an analogous way. For this reason we are called first of all to be those who allow God to be God. Moreover, since God is Love-in-Act, this means allowing God to love us. Cistercian houses are known as "Schools of Love; their Benedictine nature "seeking God" and being a "School of Love" coincide. These two aims are the same.

There are more ways of saying this and other ways of thinking about "seeking God". While, as you say, it is true God is not lost, God is also not obvious to most of us nor can we find God in the way we find the keys we inadvertently left on the table earlier or someone in a game of "hide and seek". We have to understand that this commitment to seeking God is a commitment to allow God to be personally present to us; this in turn means making our very own those ways God is found by and finds us! We will travel all those pathways ordinarily supporting and guiding such a journey and make our own such things as lectio, Scripture study, prayer, journaling, community life, intellectual and physical work, liturgy, silence, solitude, ministry, time outdoors and with nature, etc --- all the privileged ways God speaks Godself to and is heard by human beings. We make these regular, familiar, and beloved parts of our everyday lives and (perhaps too) others which are special to us: music, art, writing, etc.

Gradually we learn to open ourselves to the extraordinary God of the ordinary so that we might walk through our days with the eyes and ears of our minds, hearts, and bodies wide open to the presence of God. We do all we can to cultivate this kind of openness and attentiveness, this kind of obedience to God and to our deepest selves. Remember that the very first line of the Rule is the imperative that we "hearken" or "listen" ("Ausculta!"); this focus on obedience is the key to any search for God; it is also the source and ground of the monastic value of stability, and so, to the Benedictine way of life. After all, obedience is also the way we will allow God to claim us as God's own while stability affirms our trust in the presence of God in all of what we consider "ordinary" reality, but certainly that God exists right here and right now. With each choice we make to hearken and embrace God in this way we also allow God to create the persons we are called to be.

Thanks for the good questions. I hope this is helpful.