On Silence and Solitude in the Service of Intimacy with God

[[Sister, you write about hermits a lot. You don't take a vow of silence, do you? But why not if "the silence of solitude"is such an important element of c 603? At the same time why do you treat solitude as though it is not really about being alone?]]

Thanks for your questions. I think they are actually pretty common for non-hermits or for those whose notion of eremitical life is idealized. Similar questions could be asked about the other constitutive elements of the vocation including stricter separation from the world whenever "the world" is taken to mean anything outside the hermitage door. In each of these cases, solitude, the silence of solitude, and stricter separation from the world, what we find is that these terms are more nuanced than most people understand. None of them is absolute. By that I mean the eremitical life is not about absolute silence, absolute solitude, or absolute withdrawal from the world. Instead, these elements are real and substantial in a way that allows the vocation to be defined in terms of them, and at the same time, they are qualified by the needs of the hermit for growth, healing, and holiness as she moves toward maturity in her relationship with God and others in an ecclesial vocation.

So, for instance, no, I don't take a vow of silence nor do I hold myself to a Rule calling for absolute silence. I talk (to God and less frequently, to others), I sing, I listen to, compose (improvise), and play music, and all of this requires significant, but (obviously) not absolute silence. Silence is necessary to be a person of prayer because prayer is about listening and being available to God, and we are attentive and available to God so that God may recreate the world as he wills. That recreation begins with us and with the way God's love transforms us as human beings. Hermits cultivate silence for this purpose, not simply for itself alone. Moreover, silence can be external or internal; while both are important it is internal silence that is key in the hermit's life. The cultivation of inner silence and stillness is the aim of a life of stricter external silence. Whatever is happening externally leads us to the profound internal silence that allows for the song we are  to rise up within us and be "sung." 

What I am saying is that the hermit is silent and embraces silence to the extent it leads us to prayer and then, to union with God. The same is true of solitude. External solitude serves the hermit's life with God and her growth as a human being. One is alone with God for the sake of God's will and all that that Divine will desires and occasions. In some ways, there is also an inner solitude where the individual is at peace with themselves and with God. This solitude is about a harmonious relationship; one is truly oneself in this space, and one is oneself with God. It is the antithesis of isolation and when I write about it, I speak of it as the redemption of isolation. 

When c 603 speaks of the silence of solitude, most superficially it means the quiet that exists when one is not conversing with others or otherwise engaging with others, but at its deepest, it is an intimacy with God where God is allowed to be God and we are the human person God calls us to be. This silence of solitude is peaceful (though not painless!), profoundly energizing,  and marked by a sense of solidity and love in and through which one is truly oneself. It is therefore also about being profoundly in relationship with the whole of God's creation and the whole of God's People. When I write about the silence of solitude I also speak of it as involving the quieting of our existential anguish and pain. We can be screams of anguish and then be transformed through the love of God into a quiet and joyful song of praise. And of course, sometimes the anguish recurs and our personal song is transfigured into lament. This is still vastly different from simply being a scream of anguish! 

The bottom line in all of this is that when I speak of solitude it does mean being alone, but one is alone with God and, in varying degrees of intimacy, with all that is grounded in God. This is why I tend to usually say "eremitical solitude." There are a variety of forms of solitude; some are not healthy and most are not eremitical. The corollary is that when the hermit is not alone, but is with others, the inner silence and solitude of her relationship with God remains foundational. When a hermit has lived the silence of solitude for some time she does not need to be particularly concerned that contact with others, including occasional social functions, will destroy the silence of solitude that is so fundamental to who she is. 

Yes, of course, care is always necessary and is part of a vow of obedience, but the silence of solitude rooted in God's love is still the pedal tone of the hermit's life and it both calls her to be present to others and summons her back to the hermitage. The image I have in mind here is a Taize chant (cf., In God Alone) where woodwinds, etc., may improvise a kind of obligato above and around the chant and even occasionally sound a bit dissonant as the linkage to the chant becomes strained for the hearer, but these instruments and the line they play always find their way back to the chant of which they are always an exploration and elaboration.

Tracing the Roots of Canon 603: A Brief Look at Hermits in the 13-14 C

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I've read what you wrote about why c 603 came to be, but what about before c 603? Isn't it the case that people could just go off and become a hermit on their own just because God called them to this? Isn't c 603 something of a novelty? Because hermit life is so old I think people should be cautious about taking on a form of the life that is novel. You can understand that, can't you? Also, I think [the hermit you disagree with on all of this] has a point about wearing habits like those in religious communities. Is that another novelty you came up with because you had been a religious in a community?]] (Redacted from much longer email)

It may surprise you, but c 603 is not absolutely unique. Yes, it is binding universally and establishes hermits in law in the consecrated state and that is new (there was no mention of hermits in the older 1917 Code), but there have been canons in the Church before that bound hermits from this or that diocese in very much the same way c 603 does today. Because I don't much like copying long texts from other sources here, what I would like to do is quote a couple of paragraphs from a book including hermits and recluses of the Middle Ages that touches on the way hermits were regarded, the authority of the local bishop, and the service of investiture with the habit. This is a summary without detailed examples --- though these are available for the asking. I may also add something about the nature of the hermitage and solitude in the hermitage that also conflicts with the person you have referred to in your question, but that depends upon time. Since it is an important issue I could also hold it for another post.

Writing about hermits in the early 14 C and before, Edward L Cutts says in Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages, [[ A man could not take upon himself the character of a hermit at his own pleasure. It was a regular order of religion, into which a man could not enter without the consent of the bishop of the diocese, and into which he was admitted by a formal religious service. And just as bishops do not ordain men to holy orders until they have obtained a "title," a place in which to exercise their ministry, so bishops did not admit men to the order of Hermits until they had obtained a hermitage in which to exercise their vocation.]] (page 98)

Cutts then examines the nature of a vow made by a hermit. The form is taken from the Institution Books of Norwich, lib.xiv. fo.27a: (I have translated this into contemporary English just for this article.) [[I, John Fferys, not married, promise and avow to God, our Lady Saint Mary, and to all the saints in heaven, in the presence of you reverend Father in God, Richard bishop of Norwich, the vow of chastity, after the rule of Saint Paul the hermit. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost.]] (dated in the Chapel of Thorpe) (pp 98-99)

Here I simply want to point out the similarities between c 603 professions and this one. The Church today takes the time to discern the nature and quality of the vocation before them, she makes sure that the candidate for profession can take care of herself (i.e., is self-supporting in some substantial and stable sense), has a proper place to live where she can carry out her ministry, and requires that she writes a proper Rule of Life in light of which she will live her profession. John Ferris, above, apparently was able to use the Rule of Saint Paul the Hermit, but all of this including the ascertainment of Ferris's unmarried state (part of what I often call "the canonical freedom" to enter another canonical state of life) is familiar to anyone with a knowledge of c 603. For many years now, I have been accused of supporting a way of eremitical life that is a distortion of the "tried and true" way of becoming a hermit, namely, by just going off and becoming one, but here, in an example from 700 years ago it is very clear that c 603 has picked up in a careful and faithful way, something that was already established in the Church in the early Middle Ages at least. Canon 603 is not novel except in what it establishes in universal law.

Cutts also summarizes the service for habiting and blessing a hermit (from "Officium induendi et benedicendi heremitam"). This is taken from the pontifical of Bishop Lacy of Exeter (14C.) [[It begins with several psalms; then several short prayers for the incepting hermit, mentioning him by name. Then follow two prayers for the benediction of his vestments, apparently for different parts of the habit; the first mentioning 'hec indumenta humilitatem cordis et mundi contemptum significancia," -- these garments signifying humility of heart and contempt of the world; the second blesses "hanc vestem pro conservande castitatis signo,"-- this vestment the sign of chastity [in celibacy]. The priest then delivers the vestments to the hermit kneeling before him with these words, "Brother, behold we give to thee the eremitical habit (habitum hermiticum), with which we admonish thee to live henceforth chastely, soberly, and holily; in holy watchings, in fastings, in labours, in prayers, in works of mercy, that thou mayest have eternal life and live forever and ever." And he receives them saying, "Behold, I receive them in the name of the Lord; and promise myself to do so according to my power, the grace of God, and of the saints helping me." Then he puts off his secular habit, the priest saying to him, "The Lord put off from thee the old man with his deeds;" and while he puts on his hermit's habit, the priest says, "The Lord put on thee the new man, which after God, is created in righteousness and true holiness." There follows a collect and certain psalms, and finally the priest sprinkles him with holy water and blesses him.]] (Op Cit. p 99)

There are numerous descriptions of the nature of the eremitical habit in this particular chapter of Cutt's book, but they are all pretty similar in certain ways. They tend to have a tunic, scapular, and perhaps a cincture as well as a hood or cloak with hood. Some have TAU crosses, many take up the hermit's staff, and the colors of these various habits differ, though blue, brown, black and grey are prominent. Cutts also refers a bit earlier in the chapter to habits worn according to Papal authority for the "Eremiti Augustini" which are constituted the same way though with white tunic and scapular and (for choir or going out) a black cowl and large hood. 

Habits were important, as they are today, because people of all ranks and stations became hermits and most hermits dealt with those from all ranks and stations. Let me point out briefly then that while a habit signifies poverty, it also allows a person to move easily between various social strata without having to be concerned with "dressing the part". In this sense too, the habit is a sign of stricter separation from the world and its various strata. For the purposes of this post, however, what I really want to make clear is that the clothing of a hermit in a religious habit is not new with me or even with c 603 itself. It goes back much further than the Middle Ages. Though I have only referred back as far as the 13C here in this post, I have noted before that the giving of the hermit's tunic is linked even to the Desert Fathers and Mothers.

I sincerely hope this is helpful to you and gives you a different perspective on what is novel or not in c 603 eremitical life and in what I write here. While I believe there are some relatively novel things about what I write here, I also believe they are deeply rooted in the living tradition of eremitical life and assist hermits and dioceses in discerning, forming and living these vocations well in a way that is truly edifying for the entire Church and world. After all, c 603 has to be contextualized to be understood, not just in terms of contemporary life, but also in terms of the whole history of eremitical life. I will hold for another post what Cutts has to say about the nature of hermitages and solitude, especially regarding the variety of ways solitude was provided for in hermitages. In this too you will find c 603 and what bishops allow are not so novel as all that.

A Contemplative Moment: Into the Eye of God (Reprise)

 

  Into the Eye of God

by Sister Macrina Wiederkehr, OSB

For your prayer

     your journey into God,

    may you be given a small storm

    a little hurricane

      named after you,

     persistent enough

      to get your attention

    violent enough

       to awaken you to new depths

      strong enough

       to shake you to the roots

     majestic enough

       to remind you of your origin:

      made of the earth

      yet steeped in eternity

      frail human dust

       yet soaked with infinity.

     You begin your storm

      under the Eye of God.

      A watchful, caring eye

      gazes in your direction

   as you wrestle

        with the life force within.

In the midst of these holy winds

In the midst of this divine wrestling

    your storm journey

    like all hurricanes

       leads you into the eye,   

   Into the Eye of God

     where all is calm and quiet.

A stillness beyond imagining!

Into the Eye of God

after the storm

Into the silent, beautiful darkness

  Into the Eye of God.

This poem is taken from Macrina Wiederkehr's A Tree Full of Angels, Seeing the Holy in the Ordinary. Advent, as noted in the past couple of posts, seems to me a fine time to consider the presence of the Holy in the Ordinary moments and moods of reality. Sister was a monastic of St Scholastica Monastery, Fort Smith, Arkansas. She died in 2020.

Faith in a Reality Rooted in the Miraculous

[[Hi Sister Laurel, in your last post on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, you spoke of miracles and the fact that our ordinary world is truly extraordinary. Do you believe in miracles? I would like to believe that way, but I just cannot. I have never experienced a miracle; nothing happened when I prayed for one. Is Christianity built on the miraculous? If it is, I wonder how anyone can be a Christian. It seems to contradict what is reasonable or rational.]]

Thanks for your questions. They are good and typical of human beings in a post-enlightenment world. Yes, I do believe in the miraculous; I believe miracles occur wherever the power of love breaks through everything in our world that militates against love or the life that is created by love. God is the ground and source of all that exists and has meaning and God is love-in-act. This means that everything we know or will come to know is grounded in the dynamism of love-in-act. Love is the source of life, meaningful life. I believe that love is capable of defeating evil and overcoming death in all its forms and I believe that the stories in Scripture reiterate this overarching narrative again and again.

Christianity is built on the power of love. Christian faith is faith in the power of God's love, the love that creates and orders reality, the love that overshadowed Mary and impregnated her with Jesus, the love that allowed Jesus to heal, and exorcise, to give himself exhaustively so people would know this love-in-act he called Abba, and of course, the love that is stronger than death and raised Jesus to new life.  I believe in this power of love because I have known it in my own life. I have experienced the risen Christ, and of course, I have been loved by those who have also known and come to live from and for the embrace of God's love. It has done for them what only God can do and has acted in my life as well. That has been true in different situations where death and evil seemed to have had the upper hand and changed everything. This experience of love, particularly of God as love-in-act, convinces me our world is rooted in the miraculous and that ordinary existence much more.

Christian faith then, asks us to trust that what seems ordinary is really quite extraordinary. Not only does the cosmos exist when it might well not exist (the fact that there is something rather than nothing at all is something science cannot explain), but even more, it is knowable and capable of mediating truth, beauty, goodness, and occasioning wonder and love. I think one of the reasons we celebrate Advent is to allow us time to check out how we look at reality. If we are incapable of seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary we need practice (and sometimes help with the healing of our minds and hearts) in order to see with "new eyes". What Christmas brings us is a God who chooses to dwell with us and to transfigure our humanity into the true images of God we were made to be. It prepares us to understand ourselves as infinitely precious, capable of mediating God to others and stewarding his creation in the way he has entrusted to us. It allows us to see God at work in our world so that one day heaven and earth fully interpenetrate one another. This leads to hope, a well-grounded hope rooted in the God of love and built with the aid of our faithful intelligence, hard work, and good will. 

Why do we Tell These Same Stories Over and Over Again?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I was wondering why we celebrate Advent. Even more, I was wondering why we celebrate the birth of Christ again and again or why we do the same thing with the other major parts of Jesus' life and death. I think Christmas works well for children and families but what about for those of us who are grown and have no families; why is it important for us to celebrate Jesus' birth year after year? It seems to me this only causes pain and encourages a naive faith. . . . Like I said, it works well for children but not for adults or those seeking an adult faith. And with Advent we actually spend weeks getting ready to take on this childish faith yet again! Is this what the Church is encouraging with seasons like Advent? I hope this is not offensive, I don't mean it to be. I just don't understand the place of telling children's stories again and again to adults. . . . I do get that Jesus was conceived, was born, lived, died, and was raised from the dead and ascended to the right hand of God. Why is it important to tell these same stories over and over though?]]

Thanks for the questions. Sorry to have only cited part of your email, but I think I have copied enough for other readers to understand your questions. My answer has several parts so I may only just begin my response here. We'll see what I can do, because they really are excellent questions and go far beyond what I was thinking of when I read your first sentence! They are especially important during Advent because they (like the season) prepare us to celebrate events that are at the heart of our faith, events that stand in the past and present, and events that also stand before us as our future.

The first reason we tell these stories then, is because, unlike many other religions, Christianity is built on historical events. Christianity does not theorize about what God is like. Instead, it reflects on the God whom Jesus revealed to us during and through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension. Other religions might consider God as a creator or hypothesize that God loves us, or that God judges sin and sinners, but Christianity begins with historical events and everything we say about God must be rooted in these events. We know that God has power over life and death because the events associated with the Christ Event reveal this to us. We know that God is a creator God because he is revealed as the author of both new and old creations in the Christ Event. We know that God says no to sin and yes to sinners, and so too, that God's judgment is a sort of harvesting that teases the weeds (sin, false self) and wheat (true self) apart because that is how Jesus dealt with sin and because God vindicated Jesus by raising him from death to new life. Everything we claim to know in Christianity is dependent upon the historicity of the Christ Event and whatever we claim about God, the One Jesus called Abba, we know because Jesus revealed this to us.

The second reason we tell these stories is that at our core we are storytelling people. Telling stories is our way of communicating deep truths, dreams, aspirations, reminders of who we are and what we are made for --- all of this and so much more are communicated through story. (cf., Advent Decisions: In What Story?) Our family stories provide a context for new members to truly belong more deeply; we share the most meaningful stories of our lives with those closest to us to invite and draw them more intimately into our own lives. We listen carefully to the stories others tell us because in this way they gift us with a place to stand in their own lives --- a place we could never have shared otherwise. God has offered us a place to stand in His Own story and that place is given to us when we take our own place in this ever-enlarging narrative the Church recounts for us each year throughout all of her feasts and liturgies. During Advent we prepare ourselves for hearing stories we may have heard many times before, and we prepare because at the same time we also know that we have NOT heard this year's story before and we do not want to miss anything this time around!!

The third reason we celebrate Advent and tell these stories again is because they allow us to understand what God, in Christ, has begun to do and continues to do day in and day out here among us and with our world, namely to recreate this so that heaven and earth interpenetrate one another so completely that God who is Emmanuel (God with us) will be all-in-all.  We look forward to the day when Jesus "comes again" (parousia or παρουσια, pronounced pah-roo-SEE-ah with each syllable separate from the others), and we recognize that we are in the midst of a world being remade by God with Jesus as the firstborn of this new creation. So, we celebrate Advent and all the liturgical seasons, not merely to honor the past, but to learn to think and dream in terms of what God is doing now and working toward the world he is continuing to recreate in the Spirit. We do not tell these stories again and again out of nostalgia, but because we find our truest selves in them, and too, the will of God and future of our world and entire cosmos.

And here is where the importance of really good preaching and teaching comes into play. It is up to the homilist or the good teacher to link past events with both present reality and the future that is already coming to be. What we need today are not sentimental stories fit for children alone, but rather, challenging and inspiring stories that give us something to hope in and to work towards. Whether on the macro level, the BIG story of what God is doing in and with God's creation, or the smaller level of our own personal narrative, we celebrate beginnings and newness regularly as an impetus towards growth and fulfillment. Advent serves this purpose on both of these and a number of other levels as well. It provides us with a story we can stand in as human beings in a troubled and troubling world and at the same time it reminds us that in the Christ Event God was and is doing something that affects the entire cosmos. 

In today's Gospel story, for instance, we find God taking a young girl overshadowed by the Holy Spirit so she becomes pregnant with Jesus; this young girl then marvels that nothing is impossible with God!! That this story is historical is important for our belief and for our capacity to hope, but even if this story were mythological it would convey something of the nature of God's love that only a story could convey adequately to other human beings. The power of God's love to overshadow and transform reality is something we hear about again and again in the Scriptures. The choice these stories place before us is one of hope versus despair, life versus death, meaning versus meaninglessness, and the power of love over the power of carelessness, bigotry, and hatred. Yes, the Church is encouraging us to believe in a God whose love for us results in miracles and more importantly, results in an ordinary world that is itself extraordinary with an even more extraordinary future that calls for equally extraordinary commitments to life, love, and hope from us. The stories we rehearse are not for children (though if they capture our imaginations as children that is a wonderful thing); instead, they are for adults who can commit to working for a Kingdom where Christ is sovereign and God is all in all, adults whose hope must be rooted in history in the same way it will be fulfilled.

Advent decisions: In What Story Will we Stand? (Reprise)

A while back I lost a friend I first came to know back in the early 1980’s. We met at a small local retreat house and came together regularly for workshops, retreats, spiritual direction, occasional dinners, outings together to SF, etc. Years later, when she developed Alzheimer’s, Helen continued to remember those times at the center as a watershed period of her life. It was a complete joy for both of us to step back into that time and share our memories. It was the retelling of these stories especially that allowed her to remain hopeful and faithful in the face of continuing loss and increasing limitation. She rested in these stories and retained a sense of the meaning of her life in this way. Stories can do this. During Advent, as we begin retelling our faith’s foundational cycle of stories once again, is a good time to reflect on the importance and power of story in our lives.

It wouldn’t be too strong an assertion to say that we are made for story. Weaving stories and allowing others to weave us into their stories is not just a significant need, but a profound drive within us affecting everything we are and do. Everything that is meaningful in our lives is mediated by story – so much so that scientists have concluded we are hard-wired for story. Neuroscientists have even located a part of the brain which is dedicated to spinning stories. It is linked to our ability to imagine ourselves in relation to the world around us, but it also functions to “console” us, to make sense of reality and to compensate us for the loss of personal story in some brain disorders, for instance. Sometimes I heard this at work in my friend as she filled in holes in her own memory so her own story could move forward.

Evidence that we are made for story is everywhere. Whenever we run into something we don’t understand or cannot control, something we need to hold together in a way that makes sense, we invariably weave a story around it. Whenever we yearn to move into a larger world, whenever we imagine and anticipate such a move, again we weave a story around it. Children do it with their dolls, stuffed animals, crayons, and toys of all sorts. Imagine a child explaining what has happened and whispering reassurance to her doll or stuffed animal after a natural disaster puts the whole family in an arena shelter. Watch too as she listens as that special friend cuddles her back and rehearses bits of the story the child needs to hear as it reminds her, “you are not alone, and you will not be alone”. Such stories help this child to negotiate the challenges and uncertainties of the present and move into a more viable future.

Fiction authors weave stories that change our lives in a similar way. We love to dwell in the worlds they create, especially when our everyday lives are stressful, but in entering these stories psychologists note that we also grow in real world abilities: empathy, the skills we need to tolerate being alone, and we become better at relationships and dealing with uncertainty as well. Such stories help widen our own sense of self and let us confront the “real world” with a sense of confidence and even adventure. Physicians weave stories more subtly, maybe, when they use a patient’s symptoms to determine diagnoses, treatment plans, and prognoses. Historians use story to explain the significance of events and allow us to engage with the past, present, and future when they do this well. Scientists and theologians do something similar when they spin very different but complementary and deeply true stories to explain the nature of reality.

At their very best, hearing and telling stories helps create a sacred space and healing dynamic where we can truly be ourselves and stand authentically with others in the present. When someone we love dies it is natural that we come together to tell stories, including those of Christ and the way he lived, died, and was raised. Doing so helps to knit the broken threads of our stories into something new and promising --- a new and hopeful narrative that eases grief and leads to a future marked by promise and hard-won wisdom. Couples deciding to have a new baby, and families who choose to adopt are making the tremendous choice to allow the breaking open and reshaping of their stories as they give these children a name and place to stand in their lives and even in the greater world. Therapists, priests, and spiritual directors help us to hear, claim, and tell our truest stories, especially when they are difficult or overwhelming, unworthy of us, or (at least so far) unable to have been fully processed. Especially healing is the way these “pastoral ministers of personal story” allow us to be deeply heard and to find rest in acceptance, forgiveness, and new beginnings.

So profoundly human and humanizing is our capacity and need for story that the Church’s greatest acts of worship take the form of story. Our liturgy of the Word is, of course, made up of stories that challenge, console, and inspire us as only the Word of God can do. And listen today as we recite the Creed together. It is not composed of a series of disparate beliefs or dogmas but is a coherent story in which we find meaning, hope, and peace together as a single People of God. Even the act of Consecration is accomplished by the recounting of a story we embrace and let embrace us in our great Amen of faith: “On the night before he died, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it saying, ‘This is my body. . .’ Then he took the cup, blessed it saying, this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. . .’” We are asked then to reenact or retell this story with our lives, and to do so in memory of Him. In these mysterious and sacred acts of storytelling and our reception of them, the most profound potential of story is made real among us: viz., our deepest hungers and needs are met and we are made truly human as we accept a central place in God’s own life and allow God a place in ours. In so many ways our capacity for story is a blessing.

But not always! Sometimes we do get caught up in or substitute stories that are unworthy of us and therefore of God as well. When we do, we are deeply diminished. For instance, when young people opt to join a gang, they are telling themselves and their world a story of status, power, community and belonging rather than the story of relative powerlessness and emptiness they feel caught in. Or consider the kinds of stories adults who choose to have affairs tell themselves --- stories our world colludes in in every way possible, stories about a selfish notion of “Freedom” and love, eternal youth, the importance of physical attractiveness and immediate gratification.

At the same time, think about the realities these folks must deny or suppress --- things like genuine faithfulness, sacrifice, and humility, the importance of patience, generosity, and service --- and all of the other dimensions that are part of the abundant life God wills for and offers us in Christ. Substituting (or as happens in instances of abuse and neglect, being caught up and enmeshed in) partial and inadequate or distorted stories can skew our own lives and prevent us from becoming the persons God calls us to be.

And of course, today we find ourselves dealing with more than one pandemic. The first one is about COVID-19; the second one is about story-telling-gone-awry. In some ways, this is even more deadly than the first pandemic. There are all sorts of stories being told, and I am sure you have heard them ---from the notion that President Biden is a malfunctioning robot disguised to appear human, to the notion that Lizard People control our politics and feed off our emotions to the idea that our planet is controlled by an evil cult that engages in child trafficking and on and on. A tendency to conspiracy theories, false narratives, a need to blame others, and an allergy to objective truth in a world under threat seem to have nudged that part of the brain I mentioned earlier into outright lunacy in these cases. We want to shake our heads and laugh at these stories, but they are dangerous. Yet, because we are made for story, when our lives seem empty, powerless, and without hope, we will latch onto stories that feed even the worst tendencies within us at the expense of others which are more worthy of us.

It shouldn’t surprise us then that the Genesis account of humanity’s “fall from Grace” centers around the fact that, at evil’s urging, Adam and Eve swap the story they experience as they walk intimately with God --- the story about themselves, their world, and God’s place in it with them -- for another view of reality they prefer to believe. In THIS story eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil (rather than knowing just the truly Good) will supposedly not bring death. In THIS story God is portrayed as petty and a liar. In this story human maturity and responsibility are exchanged for self-consciousness, fear, and a blame game that we recognize replaying in one form and another every evening on some versions of the “news.” To choose a false narrative or to be caught up by such a story in this way is the very essence of sin. It separates us from the very source of life and light, it cripples our relationships, and it weakens and even destroys our capacity for truth. Sometimes the stories we embrace and hand on as truth are a curse.

If the fact that we are hard-wired for story is both blessing and curse, then it is also the way home. You see, it is not just that we are hard-wired for story; it is that we are made, hard-wired even, for God's own story. The cycle of stories we began just 4 weeks ago says that in our lostness, God comes to us in Christ and in Christ, God works to free us from sin – the state where we miss the mark of our true humanity --- and gives us a new home – a new narrative in which we can be our real selves. Jesus frees us from the distorted, inadequate, and unworthy scripts and stories we live by. One of the ways he does this is with the powerful and uniquely engaging stories we call parables. In telling us these stories he offers us a place to stand in God’s own story, God’s own reign, as he makes our own stories his.

The word parable is made up of two Greek words, "para" (alongside of, as in parallel lines, parallel parking, paralegals, and paramedics --- lines running equidistant alongside one another and legal and medical professionals who work alongside attorneys and physicians). The second word is "balein" (to throw down).

What Jesus typically does in his parables is to throw down one set of values, a single perspective, one story or situation his hearers know well and identify with personally. They will begin spinning the story as soon as Jesus, speaking with a wholly unique authority, says "The Kingdom of God is like", and follows it with something even as brief as “A man had two sons” or “Ten lepers were coming along the road”. In this way the story (and its storyteller!) draws us in and engages our hearts and minds (and so, probably some prejudices as well!). And then, just as his hearers have settled down comfortably in this well-known story Jesus throws down a second perspective or set of values (viz., those of the Kingdom of God) which clearly clashes with the first. Because we are firmly planted in the first set of values, the first script or story, the resulting clash disorients us and throws us off balance. Being off-footed in this way means Jesus’ parables help free us from our embeddedness or enmeshment in other narratives; it creates a moment of “KRISIS” (crisis) or decision; it summons us to choose in which reality we will stand firmly, which story we will make our own. This is what Advent asks us to consider, the question that stands behind Isaiah’s invitation that we Prepare the way of the Lord

In today’s Gospel, two women, one only 12 yo and on the cusp of marriage and motherhood -- and the other beyond childbearing age and barren, have allowed their own stories to be broken open by the unfathomable mercy of God. In a culture where especially the most “pious” or religious will ostracize, ridicule, and disbelieve them, they were thrown off balance by their unexpected experience of a God who ALWAYS surprises and have regained a new balance by saying yes to allowing (him) to do something qualitatively new in and for our world. 

Their courage – and God-given fruitfulness make our world resonate with a new hope and promise. Like Mary and Elizabeth, and like my friend Helen (even in her limitations and loss) -- none of us is too young nor do we ever need to be too old to similarly accept a new and deeper place in God’s story. After all, it is the story we are made and most hunger for, the story that makes us true and whole, the Divine and ultimately, the truest Human Story we are hard-wired for --- the story in which nothing is ever lost or forgotten. This is the great conversion Advent prepares the way for – if only we can bring ourselves to say a whole-hearted "yes!" to making God’s story our own. What greater gift can we imagine or be given?

On Advent and Allowing our Lives to be Those of Constant Vigil (Reprise)

 Perhaps it is the focus of Advent with its emphasis on preparation and waiting, but I came today to see my life specifically and eremitical life more generally as one of vigil --- and continuous vigil. Whether the time in our hermitages is obviously fruitful, or marked by darkness and seeming emptiness, whether one turns to prayer with joy and enthusiasm or with resistance and depression, one waits on the Lord. One spends one's time in vigil.

Now this is ironic in some ways because despite loving prayer at night the Office of Readings which is also called "Vigils" has never been my favorite hour and in these last years, I have substituted another way of spending the time before dawn which has been very fruitful for me. The time from 4:00am to 8:00am has been one of vigil but it consists of quiet prayer, Lauds, some lectio, and writing. A Camaldolese nun mentioned her own monastery (and the one I am affiliated with as an Oblate) treating these same hours as a time of vigil and I very much liked the idea. I did not know that it would define both my day and my life, however.

There is something amazing about living in a way that is not "just" obedient (open and responsive) to the Lord, but that actively awaits him at every moment. (Yes, these are intimately related, but not always practiced that way.) The heart of Benedictine spirituality is the search for God. When candidates for Benedictine monastic life arrive at the monastery, the goal they are expected to affirm is the search for God. This is the defining characteristic of the authentic monastic life and a significant point of discerning a vocation. We can hear that phrase as emphasizing an active, even desperate attempt to find something that is missing from our lives, or we can hear it as a process of preparing ourselves to find the God who is immanent in our lives and world at every point. In the latter case, our lives become a vigil to the extent that they are transformed into something capable of perceiving and welcoming this immanent God.

Another central Benedictine value is hospitality, and there is no doubt it plays a very significant part in this perspective. While we ordinarily think of hospitality as offering a place for guests who come to the monastery or hermitage in search of something, we should extend the notion to God. All of our prayer is a way of offering hospitality to God; it is a way, that is, of giving him a personal place to stand in our lives and world. While God is omnipresent and the ground of the truly personal, he does NOT automatically have a personal place in our lives. Like someone whose name we do not know, he may impinge on our space, but until we call upon him by name and give him a place he cannot assume on his own, he will remain only impersonally there. And so, in prayer, we call upon him by name ("Abba, Father"), we carve out space and time for him, we give him permission to enter our lives and hearts and to take up more and more extensive residence there. We offer him friendship and hospitality, and we structure our lives around his presence. We continually ready ourselves and look for him just as we look for a best friend we expect at any time, and thus our lives become a vigil.

For hermits, whose whole lives are given over to God in a focused and solitary way, vigil is simply another description of the environment, goal, and gift (charism) of eremitical life we refer to as "the silence of solitude." It is also a description of who we are and the attitude with which we approach life. Those four hours before Mass or Communion in my daily horarium define the characteristic dynamic of the whole of my life --- at least when it is lived well! It is a vigil that requires the silence of solitude (i.e., external and internal silence and solitude), leads to the silence of solitude (i.e., communion with God), and gifts the world with it and all it implies. During Advent especially, the call to make something similar of our own lives is extended to every one of us in a special way.

Am I supervised by my Diocese and Questions on Spiritual Direction

[[Sister Laurel, are you supervised by your diocese? Does your delegate do this for you? If so, do you think this is an adequate model for c 603 hermits? How would you improve upon it? You are aware, aren't you that someone is arguing you are not supervised by your diocese and that you are being hypocritical and deceitful in your living out of c 603, aren't you? Also, I wondered if you were aware of a video speaking of c 603 hermits who do spiritual direction that calls them Sister Shyster and Brother Bilker when they accept fees for service or deal with the dying, except under hospice control and supervision. This person argues that hermits are not licensed therapists and should never accept pay for their work, nor should they work with the dying except under the direct supervision of hospice. See, You Tube Video. ]]

Yes, I am aware of the accusations having been made about me in regard to supervision by my diocese. I have responded to these in other posts from other questioners.  (This is the last time I will address the accusations here. I am doing so because you have asked good substantive questions rooted in and going beyond the accusations. Thanks for that!). Again, to state things plainly, the person making the accusations is simply mistaken and seems to be closed to correcting that misunderstanding or accepting as valid any arrangements bishops have requested that don't comport with her narrow way of reading c 603. There is an almost studied literalism in this person's take on supervision that results in an intransigence that refuses to hear that hers is merely one possible point of view, but certainly not the only one, nor even the most effective or workable one.  The objection to spiritual directors earning an income from their ministry is something I have also responded to in the past because there are valid differing opinions on this, but the "Sister Shyster" and "Brother Bilker" appellations are new to me and strikingly crass.

Again, I am supervised by two religious Sisters who know me well, understand this vocation, have been in formation and leadership of their own congregations or in a diocesan office, and have undertaken this role at the bishop's request. They have likewise been available to the bishop whenever he sought their opinion or assistance. I was asked to choose such a delegate in 2006, before perpetual profession in 2007, by the Vicars for Religious acting in the Bishop's name. Given that there have been four Bishops since I was finally professed and consecrated under c 603, and the consistent supervision one of these delegates has provided for me and for the diocesan Bishop whenever requested, the simple answer to your question is yes. The second Sister agreed to work as a co-delegate several years ago in case of need. She was formerly the diocese's Vicar for religious and Assistant Director of vocations when I first sought profession under c 603. I think it has been a really wise and prudent arrangement. I recommend it to other dioceses and to those with whom I work, precisely because it has been so effective and good for both the vocation and the diocese. The fact is that sometimes bishops have neither the time nor, perhaps, the expertise to supervise a hermit's vocation. When that is the case, or when other things intervene to make a bishop unable to meet with the hermit regularly, it hardly rises to the level of hypocrisy or deception on the hermit's part!

If I could improve this model in any way at all (really good question, by the way), it would be to require the local ordinary meet with both the hermit and the delegate(s) about once every three years to supplement the annual or biannual meeting he holds with the hermit. (The timing is not critical here; what is important is that the bishop meets with both the hermit and the delegate and is given a chance to discuss life under c 603 together at least every few years. This provides a chance to see different perspectives at the same time and evaluate the local church's place in the life of the hermit and hers in the life of the local Church. It also allows the hermit a chance to see herself through others' eyes; this can be especially helpful in allowing the hermit to appreciate the ways her life touches people in the local community and it may give everyone ideas of how this might be strengthened or intensified. At the same time, bishops would `come to a greater understanding of the nature and gift this vocation is to the Church. All of this has positive ramifications for the discernment and formation of future hermit candidates as well.)

Regarding spiritual direction and/or working with dying clients (directees), there are other ways to qualify to work with the dying than under the tutelage of hospice. Perhaps the person complaining about this doesn't realize that. Graduate courses in theology and Clinical Pastoral Education (and experience) tend to be one of the more standard ways, and the training there is both more extensive and intensive than hospice offers. For that matter doing spiritual direction under a supervisor (or, later, when one is more experienced, working with someone one can turn to for assistance in such matters) also allows one to learn how to accompany the client who is dying. Finally, the person one is directing ordinarily will have a choice in who she wants working with her besides the nursing staff and it is typical they pick the person who has worked with them for years.  Personally, I find that having a strong background in theology allows a director to bring things to the table hospice workers do not have ; once again, the SD and the hospice workers form something of a team along with anyone else from the place's pastoral team who might be involved.

In spiritual direction, we accompany the person on (some part of) their life journey with God. We are not pretending to be therapists (unless we also are credentialed in that way), nor do we pretend to be able to do therapy --- though quite often we will assist the directee to work through their own problems. We are people of prayer who know how to listen and help others do the same. When there is a need for therapy, some of us will, with permission, collaborate with the directee's therapist to be sure the work of direction does not interfere with the therapeutic relationship or process. I have done this several times over the years and both the therapists (psychiatrists and clinical psychologists) and I find or have found it works very well --- especially when the directee can benefit from medication for some reason. 

Do some directors accept a fee for spiritual direction? Yes, many do. Often, they charge on a sliding scale because it is one of the ways they make an income. Many directors who are consecrated are supported by their religious congregations though, of course, they support the congregation with their earnings as well. (Their salaries go to their congregations, and their needs are then provided for by the congregation.) But c 603 hermits have no congregations to support them, and while they likely empathize with the desire of other directors to give freely of what God has given freely to them, those who charge for their expertise may also recognize, that "the laborer is worthy of (her) hire". 

There are codes of ethics guiding spiritual direction and other forms of pastoral ministry or counseling and I have never known a SD who did not follow these. Labeling these persons, Sister Shyster or Brother Bilker because they supposedly don't have a license to "do therapy" (or charge fees for service) also demonstrates ignorance of both the art being practiced and the degree of training and/or education, skill, and giftedness in hearing and responding to both persons and the Holy Spirit that are ordinarily possessed by the individual director. Casting aspersions about people one does not actually know, or tarring an entire group of people (like c 603 hermits) with the same brush because one has a beef with one particular c 603 hermit (or with a diocese that refused to admit one to profession and consecration) is hardly helpful to anyone.

Again, thanks for taking the questions beyond the stale accusations!! I appreciate it!

What Does the Church Teach about Suicide?

[[Hi Sister, what does the Church teach about suicide? I am writing because of the suicide last week of a young priest who [died] by suicide. I question why no one intervened and got this priest some help?]]

Oh, I'm very sorry for the priest and his parishioners because of his death! I am especially sorry for those fellow priests and other friends of this young cleric; they know well the degree of loneliness common to parish priests in today's Church. It is all especially difficult for them at this time. Perhaps you can send me his name? He is in my prayer.

The Church's position on suicide is very different than it was when I was growing up, for instance. (I was not raised a Catholic but had friends who were and I was aware of what the Church taught during these years.) The Church considered suicide a mortal or grievous sin and refused to bury the person's body in consecrated ground. Today, the Catechism of the Catholic Church stresses, as it has traditionally done, the responsibility of the person for the stewardship of his or her life, and at the same time, she now recognizes that in most cases of suicide, the person is in a psychological state that makes them less than entirely culpable for their act. With only the exception stated in Par 2282 (cf below), the Church commends the person to the mercy of God who, in ways known only to Godself, can bring the person home to themselves and to God. (This is the meaning of salutary repentance in Par 2283.) She also allows a Mass to be celebrated and burial in a Catholic cemetery. Here are the pertinent paragraphs quoted from the CCC.

•  “Everyone is responsible for his life before God who has given it to him. It is God who remains the sovereign Master of life. We are obliged to accept life gratefully and preserve it for his honor and the salvation of our souls. We are stewards, not owners, of the life God has entrusted to us. It is not ours to dispose of” (#2280).

• 
   “Suicide contradicts the natural inclination of the human being to preserve and perpetuate his life. It is gravely contrary to the just love of self. It likewise offends love of neighbor because it unjustly breaks the ties of solidarity with family, nation, and other human societies to which we continue to have obligations. Suicide is contrary to love for the living God” (#2281).

•  “If suicide is committed with the intention of setting an example, especially to the young, it also takes on the gravity of scandal. Voluntary cooperation in suicide is contrary to the moral law. Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide” (#2282).

• “We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for people who have taken their own lives” (#2283).

Is it actually known that no one tried to intervene and get help for this priest? We should not assume anything, whether negative or positive. I think it is important not only for the sake of the priest himself but also for those who truly knew and loved him. I would like to think that everyone did what they could or knew could be helpful and what this priest allowed them to do.

Because of the reference to assumptions, it is important to point out the difference between an objectively evil action (an act against the moral law) and a sin (such an act committed with clear culpability). We know that suicide is an objective evil (pars 2280 and 2281, and committing suicide makes the person responsible for committing an objectively evil act. However, circumstances, including the inner sense that has led the person to this act, can diminish or even entirely take away culpability which means that we do not know whether this act was a sin or not. That is true of all acts that transgress the moral law. If we cannot say why the person committed such an act, neither can we say they have sinned. (For example, some people speak of not wanting to be the near occasion of sin for others, and this is a good sentiment, but in fact, all these persons can know is the fact that the actions they are describing others committing are objectively good or evil, not whether those who acted thusly, have subjectively sinned. In such a case it might be better to speak of not wanting to be the near occasion of temptation.) 

Again, please send me the young priest's first name and I will keep him in prayer.

On God's Permissive Will

 [[Dear Sister, could you explain what God's permissive will is? I keep hearing "God allows such and such" as though God agreed with the thing he allowed, but that idea of permissive will makes God responsible for the evil that people do to one another, and that can't be right, can it?]]

This is a terrific question and an important one. Thanks for asking!! First of all, you are correct, the idea of God's permissive will cannot be understood in a way that either implicitly or explicitly suggests that God is necessarily in agreement with the thing being done simply because God allowed or permitted it to happen. The key idea here is that we cannot speak of the permissive will of God if by that we mean to say God desired or agreed with this particular outcome.  If God desired, agreed with, or gave explicit permission for this particular event, then we simply call it the will of God. You might be aware that I have quoted Dietrich Bonhoeffer several times on this blog regarding events in our lives and the will of God. He says, [[Not everything that happens is the will of God, but inevitably, nothing that happens does so outside the will of God.]] 

Ordinarily, I hear Bonhoeffer saying that God does not will our suffering, nor does God will evil, and at the same time, he will eventually bring good out of even these realities. I think this is a way of speaking about the permissive will of God relative to God's sovereign will. The basic idea is that God's plan and sovereignty are greater than even the worst things we choose to do to ourselves, to others, or to God's creation. God is greater than all sin and evil. Paul affirmed this when he said [[Where sin abounded, grace abounded all the more!]] God made us capable of choosing, which means he also created a world where sin is possible and can even come to dominate in various ways. Neither this fraught world nor the sin that dominates it is the will of God. And yet, God does not stop it; God permits it. But this permission does not mean God approves of sin or evil.

I too have heard people speak of God's permissive will as though it indicates God's approval or specific permission. Usually, it is meant to indicate God approves of something they have done because God didn't prevent it! For instance, in the name of "discernment," they will speak of something they are considering doing and feel unsure about. If God doesn't give them an out-and-out "sign" to not do the thing, they consider first that he is permitting it -- which God is!! They then argue it is okay and must have been God's will because God permitted it!! At this point, they refer to God's permissive will!! It's as though the phrase "God's permissive will" is a shorthand way of saying, "If God is permissive, then God must will whatever it is." There are many problems with this take on God's permissive will and the idea of "discernment" that propels it. Generally, it demonstrates an unformed and unsophisticated notion of discernment that depends on exterior signs from God. At the same time, it seems geared towards justifying an action one is uncomfortable about committing. In short, in adverting to God's permissive will in this way, one fails to listen to one's conscience (or to form it better) while calling upon God to give the person a sign! Meanwhile, one does all this while demeaning God in the process.

And of course, we know all too well that God permits terrible, even horrific things that one could never argue must therefore have been God's will. One of the most common in Christianity is the crucifixion of Jesus. People argue that this must have been the will of God, though they won't go so far as saying those who carried this out (or egged them on!) were doing the will of God! They also won't suggest that Judas was doing the will of God in betraying Jesus, and rightly so (though their take on God's permissive will should cause them to say Judas was doing or expediting the will of God). But Jesus' passion and death are critical instances of God's permissive will, and the truth of Bonhoeffer's quote: [[Not everything that happens is the will of God, . . .]] God did NOT will Jesus' passion and death!! He willed Jesus to act with integrity, compassion, and courage in the face of evil. And Jesus did that! It is Jesus' resurrection and Ascension that prove the second part of Bonhoeffer's maxim, [[but inevitably, nothing that happens does so outside the will of God.]] While human beings may do their worst, and while God does not prevent this, these are NOT the will of God. At the same time, God's plan and sovereignty are both larger than we can imagine and ultimately will bring justice, that is, ultimately God will set all things to rights.

You are correct that speaking as though God's permitting something means he agrees with it, makes God responsible for the evil that humankind does. God gives us the capacity to choose, as well as to learn and grow morally as well as intellectually, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. We have to trust in God's sovereignty if we are not to become completely discouraged with ourselves and the whole of humankind. This does not mean God is in total control, he is not. In creating human beings who are free to choose God or not, God limits himself. But it does mean that ultimately, the evil that we do is finite, and God's plan for a new heaven and new earth will encompass and transcend even the worst we do to ourselves and one another!