Solemnity of the Sacred Heart (and Feast of St Romuald!)

Today is ordinarily the Feast of the St Romuald, founder (after Benedict) of the Camaldolese Benedictines, but June 19th this year is also the Feast of the Sacred Heart. Thus it is a special day for me in several ways, for my former congregation was dedicated to the Sacred Heart and my present congregation (as an oblate) is Camaldolese. Further, my first real meeting with my former Bishop took place on the Feast of the Sacred Heart and I remember it with special vividness. Evenso, devotion to the Sacred Heart was not important to me; theologically it made little sense to me, and neither was it particularly appealing. It seemed to have to do more with the overly emotional or too-sentimental spirituality and private revelations of a 17th Century French nun, and less with the Jesus I personally knew and loved. Nor did it help that the usual pictures of the sacred heart were sort of garish and hard to relate to.

But this year I have spent some time on the notion of heart, on the idea that heart is defined theologically as the place within us where God bears witness to himself, on the startling idea that it is not the case that we have a heart and God comes then to dwell within it, but rather that the heart is first of all the place WHERE he dwells and speaks, loves, breathes, and sings us into existence moment by moment; it is therefore the "place" where we learn to listen or else close ourselves to this dynamic presence and power. More, it is also the broad or narrow reality which is created by that listening, or alternately by our refusal to hear and respond generously. It is, as I have written before, a dialogical reality or event which constitutes the very core of who we are.

Further, if you have read this blog for any length of time, you know that I have also spent time this year thinking about the hermit's vocation to love and the absolute imperative that our hearts must become ever wider as the dialogue between God and ourselves which constitutes that heart becomes deeper, more intense and pure, and more extensive as well. The struggle of the hermit to balance solitude with ministry is always a struggle to allow 1) the deepening of genuine interiority in solitary dialogue with God, and 2) to let the fruit and grace of this to spill out in the way God wills for the good of the rest of his creation. Finally, I recently (this week) lost someone whose long-patience and faithful love worked to heal me and empower my own capacity for love, and as I think about her life and work, I believe I have come to genuinely BEGIN to understand and appreciate the Sacred Heart.

We hear time and time again in the Scriptures, "If today you hear my voice, harden not your hearts!" The Greek words used for harden is the root of a medical term applied when tissue which has been wounded or injured in some way. It is the word we translate as "indurate" and it points to a failure to heal properly (or at least to return to normal), a subsequent lack of flexibility and sensation, tissue that has been damaged and never fully recovered having been replaced by scarring and simply by hardness. Unfortunately, I think so often this induration (or callousness) --- this hardening --- is precisely what happens to our own hearts when life wounds us in so many ways. We are hurt by others, by loss and bereavement, by failure, by betrayal. We are wounded precisely where we are most vulnerable and so we sometimes become both hardened against such injuries and wounding and less responsive, less vulnerable, and more fragile in the process. (Remember that fragility lacks vulnerability while vulnerability is a sign of strength and resiliency.)

And here I think is the key to understanding the Sacred or "pierced" Heart of Jesus. It is, precisely as it should be, the place where God bears witness to himself, the place where he summons Jesus into full humanity and responsive, loving existence. It is the center of Jesus' being, the event (for, despite my using the word "place", heart is really more an ongoing event than it is a place) constituted by the loving dialogue between God and man, the core of who Jesus really is in himself and of who he is for us. Further, of course, it is also a wounded heart, wounded in the mystical sense by the love of God as people like John of the Cross describe, but also wounded in the more prosaic sense of having been pierced by rejection, betrayal, cruelty, indifference, and the like. Yet, precisely because it is is the "place" where God's love dominates (that is, where that love is sovereign), where his creative and challenging Word is embodied ever more fully articulate, and where that Word is responded to faithfully in spite of all of the exigencies of life, it is a tender, flexible, strong and (for these very reasons) vulnerable heart untouched by induration or callousness. It is a heart which pours itself out for others even (and especially) as it receives the love and life of God ever-anew and more abundantly.

In many ways, I think, Devotion to the Sacred Heart is therefore devotion to what God desires to achieve and, in fact, does achieve on an ongoing, never-ceasing basis at the very center of ourselves; it is especially devotion to the One through and in whom this is achieved in a definitive way. Certainly it is devotion to a symbol of human fullness and that abundance of life which has the love of God as its center and driving force and to the Christ in whom that was exhaustively embodied. More, it is all these things in spite of the times and ways life wounds us and tempts to induration or hardness, inflexibility and callousness, and it is these things precisely for the sake of God, our truest selves, and our neighbors. Devotion to the Sacred Heart is devotion to a truly human heart whose very life blood is at the same time the Word and Spirit of God. It is devotion to the pierced heart which is also whole and tender, and lies at the service of mankind, devotion to one who loves without limit and embodies the Word and love of God without diminution or diffusion.

The Feast of the Sacred Heart celebrates God's love for us, a love which God offers without condition, and which he poured out without ceasing, kenotically and at his own expense -- not only in creation as he looked for one who would be a true counterpart, but as one who would therefore share it exhaustively with the whole of creation as well. It celebrates the embodiment of that love in a human life, and marks the vocation of each of us to do likewise. As well, it is a symbol of truly human love then, a love which flows through us and out to the world, out of our interiority in spite of our woundedness and brokenness, our callousness and fragility, but also out of our wholeness, our flexibility, and our strength in light of that love. Our God, in Christ, is the original wounded healer and I find that both immensely comforting and hopeful, as well as tremendously challenging. For that reason too, I find the symbol of the Sacred Heart freshly meaningful.

(Painting of the Sacred Heart by Salvador Dali)

Clever as Serpents, Gentle as Doves

The following post is a reprise from last year. The Gospel for tomorrow is the same reading and since I have not been posting much I hope you will forgive me for putting this up again. I would like to rework it from the perspective of a new title, "Clever (or Sly as) Serpents, gentle as Doves" for I think that this is the kind of ethic we see from Jesus again and again: he traps those trying to trap him in their own reality and then offers them something new and better, all without aggression or hostility. For those thinking that Christianity offers us a kind of bloodless piety incapable of dealing with the world, a piety which makes doormats of disciples, this passage from Matthew is an eye-opener.

Throughout the past few days we have been listening to the sermon on the mount in bite-sized pieces. Today's Gospel (Matt 5:38-42) may be a bit more difficult to swallow than most. Our immediate reaction may be one of inner protest, a complaint that Jesus' demands are unrealistic, that they will lead to increased rather than decreased violence, that to act as he requires is destructive of self-esteem, human dignity, and even good social order! Throughout the sermon on the mount Jesus has laid before us the requirements of living as a light to the world and witnessing to the astoundingly patient and generous love of God. But today we are especially asked to witness to the dignity and inner freedom that results when we are loved with God's "everlasting" and unconditional love.

Jesus gives us three examples of what he means. Each one makes a shrewd kind of sense within the culture of his day. Each one involves a non violent response to some kind of oppression or injustice and each one involves a letting go of a "worldly dignity" (self-worth or dignity measured in terms of the world) while claiming a deeper identity and self-worth in Christ. Finally, each example is therefore marked by the peculiar freedom of the Christian, the freedom to act as the daughters and sons of God we are called to be despite the limitations and constraints placed upon us by life.

In the first example, Jesus tells us that if we are struck on the right cheek, we should turn the other cheek to our oppressor. Now in Jesus' day, to be struck on the right cheek implied a backhanded slap which indicated an unequal social situation and was understood to be an insult. A master might strike a slave in this way, or a child might be struck thusly, and in some cases even a woman might be. To turn the other cheek meant the person who had been insulted or demeaned (and who might indeed occupy an inferior social position) assumes the position of an equal and requires the oppressor to recognize this either by striking her again with the front of his hand or desisting entirely. In either case, the equality of persons is affirmed and the person struck witnesses to an inner freedom which goes beyond anything the world knows.

The second example is drawn from the law court. Jesus admonishes us that if someone wishes to sue us for our tunic, we should give them our cloak as well. Implied here is an image of someone powerful and possibly rich suing someone who is less powerful and poor for the shirt off their back. (Luke uses the term "robbery" when referring to this particular saying of Jesus.) What is envisioned is the powerful person reducing the poor one to a state of nakedness, but what is also the case in Jesus' image is that the one shamed in such an act would be the powerful person, not the one deprived of their clothing. The act of handing over one's cloak as well serves to reveal the venality of the one suing even while it witnesses to a greater inner freedom and deeper dignity than the world knows. To live from and of the love of God allows a kind of detachment from the more usual honor/shame categories which characterized Jesus' world, even while our actions unmask these categories as less than authentically human.

The third example Jesus gives involves the demand that if we are pressed into service and asked to go a mile, we should go the extra mile as well. This example was drawn directly from the culture of the day. Jews were often pressed into service by Roman soldiers to carry equipment and the like. The law allowed a citizen to be impressed into service for one mile, but no more than this. The practice caused all kinds of resentment and the development of zealotism with the threat of armed rebellion was a dominant reality as well. For a person to voluntarily go the extra mile demonstrated a capacity to resist evil (oppression) without violence even while he assumed the position of Roman peer. (Remember that if the soldier's superior's were to hear a citizen went the second mile during impressed service, the soldier was open to discipline. In this sense, the one who voluntarily goes the second mile could be said to gain a superior position to the soldier!) In any case, once again, the Christian is asked to witness to a greater personal freedom and more profound dignity than the world marked or knew.

As we have been hearing in so many of the readings since Easter, the challenge before us is to live lives of genuine holiness, not merely lives of simple respectability. If Jesus' examples shock us and ask us to imagine God's will for us as more demanding, more counter-cultural than we might often do otherwise, well and good! The key to understanding how truly reasonable these demands are is to recall they are not rooted in some abstract code of behavior or ethics. Instead we must recognize that Jesus has lived them out himself: he has turned the other cheek, given his cloak as well as his tunic, and gone the extra mile in ways, and to a degree which cause today's examples to pale in comparison. Likewise, by revealing (that is, by making known and making real among us) the God who loves us with an everlasting love, he empowers us to live our lives similarly. How ever it is we work out the application of these examples from Jesus' world in our own, we are being asked to witness to a love which goes beyond anything the world has ever known apart from Christ, and to demonstrate this with a freedom and sense of personal dignity which is deeper than anything the world can give OR take from us.

[Pictures are those of the prominence where it is believed the sermon on the mount was given, the church built on this site, and a view from the "mount" looking over the plain of Genesseret.]

Pentecost, 2009: Come South Wind by Jessica Powers

"By South Wind is meant the Holy Spirit who awakens love." (St John of the Cross)

Over and over I say to the South wind: come,
waken in me and warm me!
I have walked too long with a death's chill in the air,
mourned over trees too long with branches bare.
Ice has a falsity for all its brightness
and so has need of your warm reprimand.
A curse be on the snow that lapsed from whiteness,
and all bleak days that paralyze my land.

I am saying all day to Love who wakens love:
rise in the south and come!
Hurry me into springtime; hustle the winter
out of my sight; make dumb
the north wind's loud impertinence. Then plunge me
into my leafing and my blossoming,
and give me pasture, sweet and sudden pasture.
Where could the Shepherd bring
his flocks to graze? Where could they rest at noonday?
O south wind, listen to the woe I sing!
One whom I love is asking for the summer
from me, who am still distances from spring.

(1954; 1984)

Pentecost, 2009, The Spirit's Name by Jessica Powers

Dove is the name of Him and so is Flame,
and love can push aside all eager symbols
to be His peerless and His proper name.
And Wind and Water, even Cloud will do,
if it is a heart that has the interview.

But when you are at last alone with Him
deep in the soul and past the sense's choir,
O give Him then the title which will place
His unpredictable breath upon your face:
O Dove, O Flame, O Water, Wind, and Cloud!
(And here the creature wings go veering higher)
O love that lifts us wholly into God!

O Deifier.


(1955)

On Hairshirts and Penance, Continuing the Conversation (post #3)

[[Hello Sr. Laurel, I have followed the hairshirt debate in [name of listserve] and on your blog. I have not understood you well enough, I think. I do agree very much with your point about prayer. Growth is the work of The Holy Spirit, whom we encounter primarily by prayer and Communion. On the other hand, your argument seems to say that Christian discipline is unnecessary, even bad (or potentially bad). I will agree that there are pitfalls, but is it proper to conclude that because there is danger in a thing that the thing is to be avoided?

It seems that what you have said is, by analogy, that athletes should not undertake artificial work (lifting weights, etc) in striving to become better athletes. Rather, they should simply make use of the natural work that comes their way. As far as I understood Christian discipline, the point of it is to grow in virtue, which we do by practice. Discipline it is not, and should never be, motivated by dualism. But discipline seems to have its place, properly used and understood, to mortify the appetites and practice our exercise in virtue, in saying "no" to self and "yes" to God. But your argument seems to lead inevitably to the conclusion that even fasting is not good. I know that right now you're saying "Hold On a minute!" I don't have your argument right, which is exactly why I'm writing you. Thank you, Sister.]]

This is really a great question, and without engaging in a copout I need to say first, by way of introduction, that no form of penance is right for everyone (or at every point in a life), and that includes fasting. Can you see a spiritual director advocating fasting for a client with anorexia for instance? What is good praxis for one person may contribute to unhealthiness in another. What assists with the development of virtue in one person may contribute to vice and trigger a more intense struggle with the passions for another. (And by passions I mean those distorting lenses through which we see reality wrongly, like anger, greed, self-loathing, self-righteousness, perfectionism, etc.)

For the person with anorexia, for instance, it might be that many small nourishing meals during a day is penitential. It might be that lots of ice-cream or high protein shakes is one part of genuine penance --- not merely because eating these is difficult, though that will be true, but because it is healthful in this particular case both physically, and spiritually. At the same time therapy will be penitential (as it is for most of us), and again not merely because it is difficult, though that will be true, but because it leads to a more whole and holy life. It humanizes and will contribute to prayer, that is, to a life of genuine attentiveness to the voice and activity of a merciful and loving God in our lives.

In this sense there is nothing artificial about the discipline of eating many small nourishing meals or undertaking the challenge and difficulty of therapy. These are natural forms of attentiveness to one's true needs in such a situation. Note well that simply because something is natural as opposed to artificial does not mean it does not require discipline. When I spoke critically about imposing artificial penances I was not ruling out discipline (which is emphatically NOT the same thing as a phrase I did use, "taking the discipline" -- a form of self-flagellation) or even referring to it; I take the need for discipline in the spiritual life for granted as a necessity --- hence my comment on the possible accuracy of the term ascesis rather than penance in some situations. Indeed I am sure you know yourself how demanding the discipline of regular prayer, journaling, a balanced eremitical (or spiritual) life actually is NATURALLY. In fact, many might be surprised to discover how truly demanding is the discipline of being genuinely attentive, or determining what one actually needs to be truly human in every moment of life. Living fully requires discipline of all kinds, but in all these cases the discipline is holistic and serves the greater goal and aim or telos of one's being.

Moreover, my use of the terms artificial and natural (did I actually use THAT word other than implicitly?) therefore, were used within the context of prayer and authentic humanity. What would be natural would be those things which flowed from or were clearly and genuinely called for by prayer and lead back to it by fostering its regularization, extension, and deepening in my life. What would be artificial is some form of penance which was more extrinsic to and not linked in this way; it would be one which showed no organic relationship with prayer and humanization, or even worse, which flowed from (or was imposed in such a way as to hook into and feed from or even exacerbate) darker or more sinister dimensions of the human psyche, or from drives which were baser and unconscious.

Growth in virtue is certainly something I have been referring to in other words, therefore, for growth in virtue is growth in authentic humanity and all the qualities thereof. And yes, such growth requires praxis which serves to mortify that which fails to serve or is an obstacle to this growth. More importantly, this is a praxis which should integrate the various aspects of the person so that they become an articulate whole (a prayer) reflecting the Word and glory of God. Quite often, however, in the history of penitential practice, I think people have adopted various activities which have no intention or chance of integrating the disparate drives and aspects of the human personality. Above all they were not inspired or a response to grace, and because of this, they were destructive and exacerbated the state of sin (brokenness, alienation, etc) more often than not.

If I were to use your analogy of the athlete, for instance, and if I were to accept that it is desirable for the person to grow as an athlete, then ascesis is a natural consequence of that telos or goal. Weight lifting, eating patterns that are far from normal (the normative pattern), sufficient rest, etc, would all be forms of discipline the person should engage in. These would be not necessarily be artificial or extrinsic to the nature and goal of human athleticism. On the other hand, taking steroids or other forms of actual abuse would not be natural or acceptable forms of ascesis because the person themselves suffer in both short and long terms. Some sort of pure athleticism might be enhanced (an atheleticism of strength, speed, size, with reference to physicality, metabolism and performance per se) but it would not be human athleticism. Instead it reduces human athleticism to the level of enhanced physiological functions achieved at the expense of the accomplishment and reality of the whole person. or, in other words, while the muscles develop and function superbly, they do so only at the expense of the athlete himself (and so, at the expense of true athleticism). I think the analogy can be extended to the use of such things as hair shirts, taking the discipline, the wearing of the cilice, etc. We see this in other areas of life as well; people take drugs to enhance sexual performance and see sexual intercourse as a form of bedroom gymnastics focused on "performing" while divorcing all of this from true marriage or the growth of the spouses together in holiness and wholeness.

So, yes, I agree completely that simply because a thing can be abused does not mean it should be avoided; rather it should be used with genuine care, attentiveness, and insight. However, in a psychologically more sophisticated age and culture we should certainly know to eschew those things which are abusive (or otherwise questionable) in and of themselves. In my understanding of asceticism there is a difference between discipline and abusive behavior or praxis. More, there is a vast difference between praxis which flows from and nourishes prayer and the actual becoming of prayer which is the telos of our vocations to incarnate the Word of God and that which is imposed extrinsically and apart from this context --- especially when such praxis is careless and perhaps wholly unaware of the darker or unconscious drives, urges and dimensions of the human psyche, or when such practice is rooted in a loathing of the body and materiality/corporeality. It is not the abuse of a practice I have decried in my earlier posts, but practice which is of itself abusive and rooted in a lack of esteem for the principle and reality of authentic incarnation.

I hope this helps. Of course, please get back to me if I missed something in your post or raised more questions. Thanks once again for continuing and furthering the conversation.

On Hairshirts and Penance. Continuing the Conversation

[[ Dear Sister Laurel. Thanks for beginning this conversation. It is a great topic. Too bad you don't allow comments in the blog itself, but email is fine. Here is my question. Why do you think your perspective on penance is such a different one from what is commonly held, as you put it?]]

This is a great question. When I began to write earlier I was aware of a voice in my mind from my first and most influential theology professor. He once said (and he said it several times over the years I studied with him!): "Fasting is not, of itself, essential to Christianity." Throughout the years since I have dealt (even struggled) with that dictum in various ways, but it has never left my consciousness. However, as I continued to write the first post in this thread I began to think that possibly this was one of those elusive but very real areas of Christian praxis where a feminine perspective produces radically different results than a masculine one. (Generally I cringe when I hear someone say, "Oh good, you can add the feminine perspective," or " What we need to hear (in preaching or whatever) is the feminine perspective.")

What I mean by this is that in very broad strokes the feminine perspective is usually more holistic, focused on integration, and less muscular or focused on beating things into submission, for instance. When I was answering questions on an online service once, it was not uncommon to get questions about masturbation. When someone would do so because they were troubled about it (usually it is an adolescent boy, though not always) I have heard priests (who were also queried) give the advice to confront it head on, do battle with the urges, cold-shower or otherwise pound them into oblivion, etc. My approach was and is invariably different: "make sure your life is full and rewarding; make sure there are strong relationships and healthy intimacy. Make sure you are active in school, sports, etc. Do not battle with your urges directly, at least not in the long term; it is a sure way to give them greater power." Over time I have come to think of my approach to these kinds of things as the more feminine approach, and the priest's I mentioned as the more masculine. Of course, there are strands of spirituality where body and spirit are understood to be opposed and even at war with one another, and these too are an issue, but I am not entirely sure these strands are not the more masculine approach themselves. Ordinarily this masculine-feminine division is not one I am comfortable adverting to in most things, but in regard to approaches to penance (and a few other areas), I think it is valid.

The second reason I think my approach is quite different is because of chronic illness. Possibly illness contributes to my sense that prayer and penance form an integrated reality where prayer is primary. I am fairly clear that life itself involves built in penance and obstacles to prayer which need to be negotiated in a way which humanizes. More about this when I look at some of the questions posed with regard to chronic illness.

The third reason is that for many people penance is divorced from prayer. It is not seen as a servant of prayer, nor is enabling or extending prayer the real goal of penance for many. Similarly then prayer is not the thing whch drives penance for many. The simple fact is that many people have relatively rudimentary prayer lives compartmentalized from the rest of their existence. Unfortunately then, penance is equally compartmentalized. By the way, note well that when I refer to prayer here I am referring to 1) the activity and initiative of God within us as well as to 2) the empowered response we make to that initiative. Because of this prayer becomes synonymous with the responsive or obedient life of sonship or daughterhood. Penance, as I noted in regard to Jesus, is inspired, and serves to assist in the consolidation of this identity. (It is striking that Jesus' prolonged fast in the desert is precisely a response to the Word he heard at his baptism:" This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." Similarly it is in their own sojourn in the desert that the people of Israel were drawn to consolidate their new identity as free and covenant people in a way where, though not identical to this dynamic in Jesus' life, prayer and penance flowed from and to one another.) This is not the experience of prayer and penance most people have, I think.

If prayer and penance are divorced from one another in this way then penance loses its source of governance and any drive within the human being can become expressed as "penance." Any unpleasant practice can become "penitential" nevermind the results in terms of prayer, humanity, maturation or integration. This is as true when another person is the one requesting or commanding the penance to be undertaken. I also think that sometimes we hope that in a person's life there is a small stream called prayer, and (if we can convince them to undertake it) another stream called penance, and that if someone merely practices both eventually the streams will merge into a large integrated stream and one will have a more adequate spiritual life. What is as likely to occur is that the two streams will remain separated with little influence (or at least, little positive influence, on one another. My own approach to penance always demands there be a clear preference given to prayer, and that the two be seen as integrally related in a demonstrable way.

Hope this helps. As always, if it raises more questions or is unclear in some way, please email me.

On Hairshirts and Penance in General. Beginning the Conversation

Recently on a list I belong to there was a discussion about hairshirts and the benefits and drawbacks of such practices (along with cilices, disciplines, and the like). It seemed to me the group doing the discussing fell into two camps on the issue, those who thought this was anachronistic and even lacking in spiritual authenticity, and those who were enamored of such practices and struggled to justify them. (I say struggled because again and again I got the impression that this was a practice people wanted to adopt because it was "Carthusian" --- despite the fact that Carthusians have generally dropped the practice of such "mortifications" --- and were looking for ways to validate their use in terms of genuine spirituality.) I also got the impression that time and again these struggles or attempts failed to convince or impress even those who were making them.

Interestingly, the strongest representatives of the "(this is) anachronistic, inauthentic, and even destructive" school of thought were those on the list who lived with chronic illness, while the "enamored" (or at the least, "intrigued") group seemed representative of the healthy or those who were just beginning to deal with illness regularly and wondered if such practices COULD have prepared them to live with their new situations better. (There were two other groups, those who wanted to find a place to buy or otherwise procur a hairshirt because of their nostalgia for things Carthusian, and a very much larger group who eschewed the discussion in distaste after a brief comment, but by definition neither added much in terms of posts to the conversation.)

Larger issues were certainly raised therefore: can these kinds of mortifications assist a person in preparing to live with chronic illness, for instance, what is the nature and purpose of penance itself, is the notion that the suffering that comes to us in daily life is sufficient and need not be supplemented by this kind of practice an adequate approach to penance? And of course, as someone living under a Canon that describes her life as one of assiduous prayer and penance and who wrote and lives a Rule that attempts to do justice to that, how does a diocesan hermit (or at least THIS diocesan hermit) look at all this? What does my own penitential life look like and why? What do I think a genuine penitential life should look like and why? In this post I want to begin a discussion of these and some other questions re penance. I hope people will contribute with questions and comments via email.

I often feel I am coming from a different place than most people on the nature of penance. However, the starting point for reflection, I think, should always be the life of Jesus. When I look at the Scriptures it seems to me that Jesus' penance (for instance his fasting in the desert, etc) was inspired, and it was above all an expression of dependence upon God through which he came to live fully his own Sonship with the Father and therefore, was a way of solidifying and maturing in that. It prepared for and helped create the life of prayer he lived and was. It served that, in fact. In this portrait, the two realities, prayer and penance go hand in hand as closely and naturally related, mutually empowering and nurturing one another.(In fact, in older parts of the tradition, authentic penance is called "body prayer" so essential is the relationship between the two.)

For this reason I tend to look first at prayer, at what it is, etc, and then to look at penance as that which assists prayer and allows it to 1) occur in conscious ways, 2) deepen and 3) become more extensive so that eventually one's whole being is prayer. Whatever truly assists in this process I would look at as penance, despite the fact that such stuff is rarely commonly perceived as penitential. Granted, it may be the better word for penance here is ascesis, but the Canon diocesan hermits live under pairs prayer and penance in a fundamental way, just as it pairs silence and solitude into something which is greater called "the silence of solitude", so I have worked through this to maintain the pairing I think is more essential or foundational than merely convenient.

In my Rule, therefore, since prayer is understood first of all as the activity of God within my life and secondly (and derivatively) as my own empowered or inspired response to that activity --- all of which is what I am made and meant for apart from sin --- I define prayer in terms of those moments of victory God achieves in my life, moments where the relationship between us is made conscious, moments where he is truly sovereign, moments where, in particular, he is truly allowed to love and create me anew from within and without as he wills. Penance then becomes anything which helps to allow, intensify, or extend these moments of victory into the whole of my life, and thus, to make me more fully alive and present to reality in a way which is the goal of my existence. The Rule reads:

". . . Prayer represents an openness and responsiveness to the personal and creative address of God which is rooted in and empowered by the Holy Spirit. Penance seem to me to be any activity which assists in regularizing, integrating, deepening and extending: 1) this openness and responsiveness to God, 2) a correlative esteem for myself, and 3) for the rest of God's creation. While prayer corresponds to those deep moments of victory God achieves within me and includes my grateful response. Penance is that Christian and more extended form of disciplined "festivity" implicating that victory in the whole of life and preparing for the fulfillment of this activity which is to be accomplished only with the coming of the Kingdom in fullness(Eph 1:4; LG 5,48)."

Two things I think stand out in this understanding of penance. The first is the notion of penance as a form of festivity (and I am NOT thinking of festivity for sado-masochists!), and the second is its integrative dimension. Penance is a form of responsive, even celebratory activity which, according to the promptings of the dynamic Spirit of God, allows prayer to become less and less compartmentalized in our lives, while helping us ourselves become more and more fully involved in constant prayer and fully responsive to the action and initiative or a God who would extend his sovereignty. While not everything is to be called penance, anything which is undertaken in response to prayer in order to serve prayer and our own authentic humanity and holiness could justifiably be thought of as penance then.

In this schema then, journaling regularly could be a penitential act. Or, for instance, sometimes a hot shower and timely nap, comforting as they are, are penance. Sometimes a brisk walk or time spent planting something in the garden is. Other times taking a pill I really don't like is --- not because I don't like it or because it produces some suffering (side effects are ALWAYS a reality), but because it SERVES my spiritual life. And in such a schema, appropriate rest and nourishment (especially so long as one is attentive at meals!), dream work, therapy, spiritual direction, recreation, and any number of other things could be considered penitential precisely because they can allow the maturation of prayer and the transformation of the person INTO prayer. Again, above all, in this schema penance is not punitive or geared towards subjugation of this or that dimension of our lives; it is instead celebratory and integrative.

Of course, this notion of penance does not rule out the unpleasant things which are necessary to grow and mature as a person of prayer. I think that is obvious even from some of the examples I chose: taking a pill (or many pills) I dislike, for instance, or therapy, journaling, fasting, etc. However, I think there must be a clear relationship between prayer and penance, and penance must always be the servant of prayer and human maturation. This is the driving consideration for me on what serves as authentic penance. More about the discussion re hairshirts and the questions raised in other posts. . .

Prayer. Is it really "just talking to God"?

[[Hi Sister. A definition I was given of prayer was that it is " just talking to God." The idea here was that one ought not to get overwrought about language or grammar, etc but simply talk to God. However, this seems to rule a lot out of prayer, including a lot you have said about it. Would you disagree or agree with this definition and why?]]

Generally, as I think you are already aware, I disagree with the definition and I believe that while it can be of limited help to some people at some points in learning to pray, especially to young persons used to rote prayers or those who are overly concerned with "getting (or doing) it exactly right" for instance, it is a definition I would generally avoid. There are several reasons. First, our own talking to God is ALWAYS a response to his active, loving, merciful, and communicating presence, and it is this active presence brought to consciousness that is prayer. Prayer itself is the work of the Holy Spirit who empowers us to listen and respond. In other words prayer is ALWAYS first and foremost something God achieves in us, something God does, not something we do ourselves except secondarily and derivatively. The focus on OUR talking misses this accent on God's action and initiative, sometimes completely. Secondly, the focus on talking often rules out subsequent listening to God as well. Similarly, it rules out other non-verbal forms of prayer as well: running or walking quietly, sitting silently, meditating on Scripture, playing violin (etc), painting, and/or any other activity in which one both listens (or watches) attentively and pours oneself into the activity in a responsive way. Prayer involves listening to and with one's heart. This presupposes the activity of God there and it perceives prayer not only as responsive, but as a centered act of the whole person. Finally, when one defines prayer as "just talking to God" one sets oneself and others up for expecting (and not getting) a correlative response on God's part; one sets oneself and others up for believing either they have not been heard or what they said not been regarded, etc. The dynamic here is "I did my part; why doesn't God do his?" --- because after all, God really does NOT speak to us or answer prayer in a comparable way.

This definition of prayer is reductionistic and personally I can't see simplifying (or reducing) the definition of prayer to "just talking to God" when the difficulty with prayer is not that it involves tricky or hard-to-learn techniques. What is difficult about prayer is learning to trust ever more deeply, and further, learning to perceive the activity of God that goes on all the time within and around us so that we can learn to surrender increasingly to it. Defining prayer in terms of "just talking to God" can encourage self-centeredness and make maturation in prayer quite difficult. It may involve some degree of surrendering to God and communicating from one's heart (ideally it implies these things), but often it means simply pouring things out to God in an assertive way and then leaving once one has had one's say, without any genuine listening. When this is true, "just talking to God," can be a distraction from more authentic or mature prayer. In fact it can prevent us from even suspecting that prayer involves "listening" (that is attending and surrendering) to a God who himself is a constituent part of the activity of our hearts or, that is, to the very core of our Selves.

Another objection I have is that it is a definition that tends to make of God just another buddy we disclose our daily agenda or problems to. While I agree our relationship with God should allow for complete openness in such matters and that friendship with God is something to honor, God is not just another friend we chat or have coffee with (though we may ALSO do these things with him in a conscious way). As I noted briefly above, one definition of prayer I personally use with people (including grade school kids in years 6-8) is, "listening to and with one's heart." Here the accent is on paying attention to what a sovereign God does within us, and also making all we do into prayer. Prayer is clearly something responsive which God empowers, and while it will surely involve pouring out our hearts to God, it is always more a matter of letting him pour himself into our hearts -- and into our world through us. In every way, the intimacy of friendship notwithstanding, prayer is not simply talking to a peer. On the whole then, my objections to the definition you heard and provided is that it assists with a narrow range of problems in prayer but fails to teach the larger truth that prayer is always God's own work in us or therefore, that it demands an attentiveness that goes far beyond "just talking to God." For that reason I believe it creates more problems than it solves.

Bishop Cordileone "Takes Possession" of His New Diocese

Bishop Salvatore Cordileone was installed as Bishop, or rather "took possession" of the Diocese of Oakland today. (The reference to taking possession is the more precise canonical term for this act; it is not a reference to the type of leadership we expect Bishop Cordileone to exercise!!) In an afternoon which began with a procession of clergy from San Diego and Oakland, continued with the new Bishop banging three times on the doors to the Cathedral of Christ the Light while Cardinal, Bishops, clergy, and people waited within and then proceeded with the reading and witnessing of the official letter of appointment from Benedict XVI and the seating of Bp Cordileone in the chair (cathedra), it was a terrific beginning to a wonderful celebration.

In his homily Bishop Cordileone emphasized that the Bishop is the icon of Christ's wedding with his church and spoke of a service to the diocese defined in terms of John's love as giving one's life for his friends. As he explained, the language of possession includes the phrase "to have and to hold" --- clearly nuptial language ---and he developed the analogy further in light of the Gospel from John 15. He expanded on the image of abiding with in light of Christ and his love; the central associated image here was laying one's life down for one's friends, and it seemed to promise a leadership of genuine Christian intent and motivation. It was a fine homily and promising for the diocese's relationship with her new pastor.

Also, for me personally, it was wonderful to see Archbishop Vigneron once again who came for the installation. In any case, the Diocese of Oakland officially has a new shepherd and we look forward to the future.

Congratulations to Catherine Wright, Consecrated Virgin

Congratulations to Catherine Wright on her consecration under Canon 604 to a life of consecrated virginity for women living in the world. Catherine's consecration was held in the Mission St Raphael in San Rafael, CA last Wednesday (Feast/Memorial of St Catherine of Sienna, Catherine's patron). Archbishop Neiderauer of the Archdiocese of San Francisco presided. Judith Stegman, president of the US Association of Consecrated Virgins attended and witnessed the consecration.



Received into full communion as a Catholic just six years ago, Catherine now ministers by assisting in the RCIA program herself and will continue to do that as newly consecrated spouse of Christ. During the ceremony Catherine was given a gold wedding band (above) and a copy of a Book of Hours (Liturgy of the Hours or Divine Office, cf below) to indicate both her new state of life and part of the responsibilities she assumes as a result. Undoubtedly prayer is seen as a central aspect of the vocation and during the Archbishop's homily, which was mainly instructive of what Catherine undertakes in accepting this vocation, he provided a litany of the ways Catherine would pray in service of the church from this day forward. At the same time, the consecration under Canon 604 is given to women living in the world, and this is where they carry out their ministry.



Although Consecrated Virgins aren't religious, are not called Sister, and make no vows (they pledge themselves to perpetual virginity but this is not considered a vow), they do give (dedicate) themselves completely to Christ as spouse and assume a special place of service in their dioceses and parishes. The wedding ring is the single outward sign of this dedication and correlative consecration while the Rite is replete with wedding imagery. Ordinarily Consecrated Virgins are also allowed to reserve the Eucharist in a tabernacle in their own homes or apartments, just as hermits and religious houses are allowed to do. (This requires the Bishop's permission, and is not automatic, by the way. Not all Bishops grant permission.) Along with Canon 603 (consecrated or diocesan hermits), Canon 604 (order of consecrated virgins) is one of the renewed but very ancient forms of consecrated life in the Revised Code of Canon Law which came out in October (Advent), 1983.

All good wishes to Catherine as she begins this new (state of) life! It is the start of an awesome adventure.

In Memoriam, Michael E Miller, Oblate OSB Camaldolese

Occasionally, by the grace of God, we meet people who are genuine Christians and even mystics. They have suffered with all the foibles and sometimes the illnesses that afflict us human beings routinely, and are very clear that God in Christ has transformed them and their lives. They still have those illnesses and yet joyfully live a full, whole, and holy life in Christ because they have learned the truth of Paul's affirmation about God, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness." They live lives of deep and abiding prayer, becoming God's own prayers in this world, and in everything they are and do they manifest the hope that the Church proclaims as our heritage as adopted Sons and Daughters during this Easter season especially.

Michael Miller was such a man. Michael was a Camaldolese Oblate and I met him several years ago at Incarnation Monastery before I had affiliated with Transfiguration. Since he lived in San Francisco, and I in a hermitage across the Bay, occasionally we would meet for coffee and conversation in Border's bookstore in SF. Other times we would see each other at Incarnation for Office, Mass, or quiet days, and I particularly remember one dinner we celebrated as we, another couple of Oblates and the Monks from Incarnation went out to mark the Feast of St Romuald. Michael and I shared a common interest in things Camaldolese and Benedictine, spirituality more generally, and more particularly the notion of a vocation to chronic illness. He had struggled with alcoholism in his youth, with AIDS the rest of his life, and, since I have known him, with respiratory problems compromising some of his abilities.

He was known for his gentleness, his deep wisdom, and his abiding compassion and lack of judgmentalism. He was also known for his wonderful sense of humor and capacity for conversation. He was a talker (!!) --- but with a great capacity for listening! It was with sadness that I learned of his death this last Wednesday. He was a friend, and I will miss him though I believe that he is present still watching over our Camaldolese interests and concerns. I know too that he read this blog, so it is an honor to remember him here. I know he would have laughed to see an article about himself here --- and he had a truly wonderful laugh.

For those in the SF area, especially Oblates, Michael's funeral will be at 2:00pm at Holy Redeemer Church in San Francisco. The address is 100 Diamond St in the Castro (about a mile from the 16th/Mission BART station or just a couple of blocks from the Castro muni station). Visitation will be held starting at noon.

A Final Farewell. . . for the Time Being

Today we celebrate the Mass of Christian burial and interment of Father Frank Houdek, sj. Those knowledgeable about Jesuit spirituality (and that of Paul, of course) will be familiar with the following prayer. This version was done by Dan Schutte formerly of the St Louis Jesuits. It is one of the hymns we will sing today, and it it summarizes well what Father Frank was all about. As a man, a priest, and a religious, he gave himself to God. He allowed God to take him and use him in his loving and merciful service every day of his adult life. Day in and day out he made this gift to his God anew, and day in and day out God gave his people this gift of Frank's life in return. Now he makes his final return to his Father, and we begin to appreciate the gift he was and remains to us as he journeys with us in Christ in a new way. May God grace him with his love and mercy. It always truly was enough for him, and in this truth we were and are yet extravagantly blessed.


Take My Heart, O Lord
Take my hopes and dreams;
Take my mind
with all its plans and schemes.

Give me nothing more
than your love and grace
These alone, O God
Are enough for me.

Take my thought, O Lord
and my memories
Take my tears, my joy,
my liberty.

Give me nothing more
than your love and grace,
These alone, O God
are enough for me.

I surrender, Lord
all I have and hold
I return to you
Your gifts untold.

Give me nothing more
than your love and grace.
These alone, O God
Are enough for me.

When the darkness falls
on my final days
take the very breath
that sang your praise.

Give me nothing more
than your Love and Grace
These alone, O God
Are Enough for me.

N.B., for the parish schedule today for Fr Frank, please see the next blog article. The schedule is found at the bottom in bold font.

In Memoriam: Father Frank Houdek, SJ; June 16, 1935-April 23, 2009

In lieu of any personal blog entry at present, the following was the parish announcement of Father Frank's death from our pastor, John Kasper, osfs. A picture of Frank, I hope, will be forthcoming. For now, the only one I have is from the day of my perpetual profession. On that day Father Frank (right), as he always did, proclaimed the Gospel from memory. I am so privileged to have known and worked with him for the past several years. He was a fine priest and a man of integrity, deep compassion, and gentleness, a true Christian: the finest things I can say about anyone with such a vocation. We are all feeling an incredible loss (not least, given the quality of Frank's life and ministry, a loss for words) and we hope in the resurrection.



[[It is with great sadness that I announce to you the death of Father Frank Houdek, SJ. Father Frank was a Jesuit for fifty-seven years and has been part of our St. Perpetua Parish since 1991 as Sacramental Minister, while he served as a theology professor at the Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley. Father died of cardio-renal failure after struggling with failing health for the past several months. Until the very end though he made ministry his primary goal and focus. Even when it was difficult he wanted to be at prayer with the community and to preside at the Eucharist. His last celebration was at our parish Lenten Penance Service in March.

To look at the walls in Father's room is to look at hundreds of books in his personal library on scripture, theology, spirituality and Church history. Those books include the one he wrote, Guided by the Spirit: A Jesuit Perspective on Spiritual Direction. Chicago: Loyola Press, 1996. Father Frank held a master's degree in theology from St. Mary's University, Halifax, Nova Scotia, and a Ph.D. in classics as well as a Ph.D. in Philosophy, both from UCLA. He taught at the University of Detroit and the School of Applied Theology at Berkeley and was an assistant professor of historical systematics and director of M.T.S. (Master of Theological Studies) programs at the GTU/Jesuit School of Theology, Berkeley. He was a nationally known retreat director and spiritual guide.

For all his higher education and scholarly background Father Frank was a down-to-earth guy, making the gospel come alive for us in his preaching and teaching. His intimate knowledge of the scriptures allowed him to proclaim the gospel without needing the printed text. Like the early Christians who shared the Word through oral tradition, Father Frank had committed the gospels to memory. His standard operational procedure of opening most homilies with a joke created anticipation for his hearers. As the joke began you wondered what in the world it had to do with the scriptures. He cleverly drew a thread from the joke that led to the key point of his homily - a point that often challenged and always inspired. He caught your attention with the joke, but more importantly, he uplifted you with his message.

As a spiritual director and counselor Father offered his wisdom and insight to many parishioners and others who sought his guidance. He was a faithful companion in prayer to people who were seeking a deeper relationship with God and a closer walk with Jesus. Our sympathy is extended to Father's two sisters from Ohio, Harriet and Jeri, and his two nephews from the Bay area, Phil and Joe and Joe's wife Kathy, as well as his colleagues from the Berkeley theological community, his longtime friend, Dr. Penny Pendola, and the many friends and parishioners who looked to him for support and guidance. I will greatly miss Frank's friendship, his assistance with our parish liturgy and the personal support he offered me as pastor and fellow minister of the Gospel.]]

In sympathy,
Father John Kasper, OSFS

Father Frank's life will be commemorated in prayer as follows:

Sunday, April 26 at 4:00 p.m.: Rite of Reception
when Father's body will be brought to St. Perpetua Church.
(Throughout the late afternoon and early evening there will be visitation at the church.)
5:00pm Rosary
6:00pm prayer with members of the GTU community

Sunday, April 26 at 7:00 p.m.: Vigil
including scripture, song and words of remembrance. (There will be an informal reception with refreshments in the hall following the Prayer Vigil.)

Monday, April 27 at 11:00 a.m.: Mass of Christian Burial
followed by a reception and refreshments on the hillside plaza behind the school.

Monday, April 27 at 3:00 p.m. Interment at Queen of Heaven Cemetery in Lafayette. (Those attending the burial will leave the church and reception about 2:15 to drive to the cemetery.)

Changing the world in continued faithfulness and perseverance

Deacon Greg of Deacon's Bench blog posted an astonishingly beautiful couple of picture symbolizing the impact of one person's prayer over time. Quoting the story he read, he writes: [[According to the report: "70 year-old Buddhist monk Hua Chi has been praying in the same spot at his temple in Tongren, China for over 20 years. His footprints, which are up to 1.2 inches deep in some areas, are the result of performing his prayers up to 3000 times a day. Now that he is 70, he says that he has greatly reduced his quantity of prayers to 1,000 times each day."]]



We often are tempted to think our prayers produce no fruit, no perceptible change, or that faithfulness especially to the tedium of monastic, eremitic, or lay lives is worthless. In fact we simply cannot see the effects of our faithfulness, our perseverence in all the small acts of faith and commitment to living our lives in Christ we undertake day in and day out. Remember these pictures. Beautiful as they are, they are but a shadow of the changes such faithfulness and perseverence bring in and to our world.

Octave of Easter, Thursday Readings

Last Thursday there were two intriguing readings. The first is from the Acts of the Apostles where Peter stands up and castigates the Jews for what they did to Jesus, but also offers them a chance to accept a place in the new covenant. The second is from Luke and follows the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. In this lection they are explaining to other disciples how Jesus met them on the road and they recognized him in the breaking of the bread when suddenly he shows up in their midst. What is so striking is the degree of fear they experience. They are startled of course, but Luke makes clear that they are also terrified and think they are seeing a ghost. Jesus has them touch him, shows them his hands and feet, allows them to know he is flesh and blood --- though not as they are used to given his capacity to appear and vanish at will --- and eats some baked fish.



Both readings mean to demonstrate that something astounding has happened, something which changes everything. Whatever this is, it gives courage to those who were hiding for fear of their own lives and allows them to speak about Jesus with a new kind of boldness (parrhesia). Peter, despite his own denials of Jesus is now a community leader and returns to his own people, the very ones who condemned and militated for the crucifixion of Jesus as a blasphemer and would certainly have condemned Peter and the others as well, to tell them about belief in a crucified messiah --- an incomprehensible combination of words until this point! What Peter knows is that the crucified messiah lives; he has been raised from godless death to new and eternal existence by his Father; he has been completely vindicated and the result is a new and everlasting covenant, a new and everlasting dialogical form of existence with God for all who will follow him and be baptized into his death. Awesome as this all is though, it is not enough, as the gospel reading makes plain.

It is not simply that Jesus has been raised to a new and eternal existence; he has been raised to a new and eternal BODILY existence, and this is something I think many of us miss when we think of resurrection. (Or we think of life after death as the real climax of the story when it is only the penultimate part of it.) Jesus moves between two worlds now; he moves between heaven and earth. In him these two realms interpenetrate one another in a way they had not before. The veil between sacred and profane has been truly torn asunder in the Christ Event. The life Jesus lives and offers to us is not simply life after death but a bodily existence in a remade world. When we speak of Christ as the new creation this is really what we are referring to --- to the fact that he has been remade by God to represent a new kind of bodily existence where heaven and earth interpenetrate one another in a new way and will do so more and more completely as Christians accept their own vocations to follow Christ until one day God is, in Paul's words, all-in-all.

I found the readings challenging in several ways. Once my immediate response to the lection from Acts would have been something like: "Oh, Peter, who do you think you are sermonizing in this way?" But today I see him as an image of the church with its commission to every Christian to proclaim the gospel with boldness in spite of past sinfulness, past betrayals and denials of Christ. Peter too has experienced the risen Christ, not least in the breaking of the bread just as we each do every day, and he has been transformed by the experience. And all the disciples have now had "the Scriptures opened to them" so that they may read older texts with news eyes and heart in light of their experience of Jesus' vindication by God. There is a new covenant, consistent with, but perfecting the older one, a new creation, consistent with but perfecting the older creation, a new Temple, a new Law rooted in Gospel, and in all this, a new hope for heaven and earth together.

The Gospel is especially challenging, not merely because it expects Jesus' disciples to put aside terror at something they were wholly unprepared for (THIS resurrection was NOT something they had foreseen really, nor was it something major versions of Judaism itself believed in per se), but because it expects us to accept that resurrection is a bodily reality, and that God's Kingdom will be realized here within space and time as eternity and spatio-temporality are allowed to more completely interpenetrate one another and God become all in all. We cannot simply hope for heaven and turn from efforts at building the Kingdom of God here on earth. We cannot simply relinquish a vocation to genuine holiness as something achieved elsewhere; instead God achieves it in our very midst, in the midst of space and time, in the midst of THIS life with these circumstances, weaknesses, and failings. Christ has obediently (responsively and openly) plumbed the depths of human existence, deeper than any of us will ever go ourselves (thank God!), and in so doing he has implicated God in every moment and mood of this existence.

He has made of us a new creation and asks us to bring it to completion in Him. So the good news of Jesus' resurrection is accompanied by a great commission issued to each of us. Proclaim the good news of a new creation with boldness. In me see with new eyes, love with a new heart, imagine with a new hope! In me make all things new! Resurrection, after all, is not simply life after death; it is a new bodily existence we already share in and owe to the world.

The Death of Death (Reprint from Easter 2008)

What is it we celebrate today in proclaiming CHRIST IS RISEN, INDEED HE IS RISEN!!? In particular, what does it mean to say that Jesus has conquered death? Isn't death still with us? What has changed? A couple of people have written about the article I posted last week and asked for some clarifications. Since the explanatory notes that accompanied the original article in Review For Religious did not translate into the blog entry it is more than likely the article left readers in general with questions and the need for clariifcations. I will try to answer or address them here as they are raised in email.

As I noted in that earlier post (A Theology of the Cross), in the Scriptures death has two meanings. There is the normal kind of perishing, the kind of perishing our pets do, the kind of perishing which is completely natural and untainted by sin. Presumably it is the kind of dying which is, for us, a natural transition to eternal life, the kind of death Mary suffered prior to her assumption, and the kind of death we might have known had sin never been introduced into our world. But there is also a second kind of death, the kind which we humans beings know and fear because it is unnatural, sinful, and therefore, by definition, Godless. It is a more characteristically PERSONAL reality created by human sin. It is also a power at work in the world, but twisted, distorted and made malignant through sin. For this reason it is variously described as sinful death, godless death, or the second death; it is symbolized by death on the cross, and what makes it horrific for us is the absence of God. It is completely antithetical to what we are made for or called to. When Paul writes that the sting of death is sin, this is what he is referring to --- death which is rendered Godless --- for we are rightly terrified of this death, and yet, every time we choose to live without God, we choose Godless death as well, for to choose life without God, is necessarily to choose death without him.

This second (kind of) death is the death which Jesus died for us, the death which he experienced in all of its depth and horror. It is marked, as his cry of abandonment tells us, by his loss of all contact with his Father. Jesus enters the realm of Godlessness, not simply that of death but of SINFUL death, the uniquely personal realm and power created by human sinfulness, and he does so OBEDIENTLY, that is, remaining open and responsive to his Father and the Holy Spirit, not turned in on himself or rejecting the dependence of faith by attempting to save himself or despairing of God. When Paul says Jesus was obedient unto death, even death on a cross, this is what Paul is talking about. Crucifixion symbolized godlessness, and being completely cut off from both human and divine communion. To die such a death while remaining obedient to God is to open this ultimate sinful and personal reality to God. It is, in fact, to implicate God into this reality thus transforming it forever.




And here is the key to understanding Jesus' triumph over death, sinful, godless death. God cannot force his way into a strictly personal reality. He must be ALLOWED in. That is true in our own hearts, and it is true of this uniquely personal reality as well. In our own lives, we are called to obedience, which means we are called to remain open to and dependent upon God and the life and meaning he gives. We are called to do that in all of life's moments and moods so that God is implicated in them --- our contribution to God's becoming "All in All"! And yet, in our own lives, when faced with threatening situations, we typically do NOT remain obedient to God. Instead we do what the crowd challenged Jesus to do: we attempt to save ourselves. This may mean doing all we can to extricate ourselves altogether from the situation APART FROM THE GRACE OF GOD, but it may also mean shutting down emotionally, doing all we can to prevent ourselves from really feeling what is happening to us or being vulnerable to all it implies. Unfortunately, we also cease to be vulnerable to or dependent on the grace of God at such times.

Jesus, however, does not shut down emotionally; he does nothing to ease his own vulnerability, and he certainly does not act to extricate himself from the situation. Even his request that this cup might pass from him is a way of remaining open to the will and grace of his Father and dependent upon that; it is an expression of vulnerability. His is truly an obedient death, and he remains open and responsive to God right to the depths of all this sinful, godless death implies. And it is here the miracle occurs. Because of this openness, this complete or exhaustive dependence and self-emptying, God is able to enter the situation just as exhaustively and transform the reality of godless death with his presence. Where once sinful death would have had the final word, it no longer does. Instead God will bring life and meaning out of even this reality. When Paul speaks of the death of death this is what he is speaking of: the triumph of self-emptying (kenotic) Love over sinful death. When he asks, "death where is yout sting?" he is pointing to this transformation.

In light of this, for those baptized into Christ's death and faithful to that baptism, death is what it can be for us: more truly a matter of natural perishing, a kind of transition to eternal life. It is no longer something we must fear in the way we once did for it lacks the sting it once had. It is instead, in light of Christ's death, the place or event in which we may meet God face to face. God forgives our sins, but he acts to reconcile us to himself, and part of that reconciliation is to defeat those realities which remain as obstacles between us and himself. Both death and godless death are among those. The post-resurrection world is not the same as the one that existed before Jesus was raised, for life has broken into some of the darkest most inaccessible places in light of Jesus' OBEDIENT death and resurrection. More precisely, heaven has broken in upon us and we are asked to be ITS citizens (that is, Daughters and Sons of God) right here and right now as a result of our baptisms into Jesus' death.

Viruses of Various Sorts

Well, my apologies for not posting recently, but Easter Tuesday saw me felled with a virus. I am really fine; just recovering, and that will continue a few more days. Holy Week and the Triduum were exceptional however and I will post about all of that and some of the readings I have been thinking about as soon as I can. In the meantime, one other thing fell ill, namely my laptop! I have never seen anything quite like this, but all of my email for about two months simply vanished, including all those posts I either hold to think about or "keep as new" in order to respond when I have time. So, if you have written recently and received no answer figure that your email was probably lost in the "great disappearance," and please write again.

Christ Is My Utmost Need, by Jessica Powers (Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit)

Late, late the mind confessed:
wisdom has not sufficed.
I cannot take one step into the light
without the Christ.

Late, late the heart affirmed:
wild do my heart-beats run
when in the blood-stream sings one wish away
from the Incarnate Son.

Christ is my utmost need.
I lift each breath, each beat for Him to bless,
knowing our language cannot overspeak
our frightening helplessness.

Here where proud morning walks
and we hang wreaths on power and self-command,
I cling with all my strength unto a nail-
investigated hand.

Christ is my only trust.
I am my fear since, down the lanes of ill,
my steps surprised a dark Iscariot
plotting in my own will.

Past nature called, I cry
who clutch at fingers and at tunic folds,
"Lay not on me, O Christ, this fastening.
Yours be the hand that holds.

(1952, 1984)

Network of Diocesan Hermits

In a recent post I noted that some diocesan hermits are trying to assist candidates for Canon 603 profession, as well as Dioceses who look for resources in this matter. The website now has an online presence, though it is still under construction. The main title is Network of Diocesan Hermits because we are specifically for Canon 603 hermits and serious candidates for profession and consecration in this way who are recognized as such by their dioceses. The subtitle is Eremita.org and either title will lead to the website.

The Network was begun by a hermit in New Zealand and myself under the sponsorship of Archbishop John Dew (New Zealand). At present we are an intentionally small group of diocesan hermits from several different countries, but now looking forward to growing. We are hoping to offer resources for formation, writing of Rules, issues raised by Canon 603 in the church and world, mentoring of hermit candidates by perpetually professed diocesan hermits, etc. Additionally, there is an online Skete (Mt Tabor Cyberskete) which allows Diocesan hermits to communicate with one another. The link to that and the NDH is found in the lower right panel of this blog. Please keep us in mind and keep us in your prayers especially.

Christ is Risen, Indeed he IS Risen!! Alleluia!

Alleluia, Alleluia! Christ is RISEN! Indeed he IS risen!! Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!!!

All good wishes for a tremendously joyfilled Easter from Stillsong Hermitage!

Love to all,
Sister Laurel, Er Dio
Stillsong Hermitage

Approaching the Triduum. Another look at a Holy Week Exercise

Last year I posted about one of the practices I do each year during Holy Week especially in light of Good Friday and Holy Saturday. Today after Mass I spoke to a class of eighth graders about Holy Week --- it was impromptu and not really prepared --- and one of the things I spoke of was this practice as a way of getting in touch with one of the dimensions of Holy Week and the Triduum. It is a time of great highs and lows and it is important to open our hearts to all of these for they are meaningless apart from each other and depend on one another for both depth and power. We talked about how the disciples felt after the crucifixion and I reminded them of the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. You remember the story, of course: while walking along they meet a man they do not recognize and he asks them what is happening. They look at him as though he climbed out from under a rock to not know what had gone on in Jerusalem, and they explain about Jesus' crucifixion:

"The man we THOUGHT (hoped) was God's messiah was crucified. He is dead. Some women went to his tomb and found it empty, but when our companions went to see for themselves, they found nothing." (see full text below.) And the implications are clear: "Everything we thought about him was untrue. However he did what he did, whether by magic or some other way, it could not have been by the hand of God, for he died a completely godless death, shameful, unvindicated. The Kingdom he announced is not at hand, the love, forgiveness, and mercy of God he claimed to model and mediate is not something we can believe in. He died an abject sinner, a blasphemer, and God did not save him but instead abandoned him --- as we heard from his own mouth! Godless death has triumphed." For a period of days the disciples were left bereft. At the very least, Good Friday and Holy Saturday saw the end of ALL their hopes and dreams. During the Triduum it is a good idea to reflect on this, with how it must have felt to be so disappointed, to really be left with nothing but their old lives (to the extent they could simply go back to those), an older vision of God, of reality. With the kids I asked them what it would feel like if someone they loved and admired turned out to be a criminal, someone who had claimed to be one thing but was really shown to be something else entirely. What would it feel like to lose a best friend or hero to death but ALSO to find out they were something other than what they believed, that perhaps they were a fraud and even a blasphemer? THAT was what the disciples were experiencing on Good Friday and Holy Saturday. THAT is what they were experiencing before someone arrived with the news that he had been raised, that he was alive and vindicated by God, that he REALLY WAS the person they believed him to be --- and a good deal more besides. It is what they would have continued to feel without the resurrection and an experience of the risen Christ. As I wrote earlier in reflecting on this experience of Good Friday and especially Holy Saturday: [[We observe Holy Saturday as the day when sin and death have triumphed. On this day there is no Savior, no Church, no Sacrament, and no Gospel. There is nothing to celebrate or proclaim. There is neither hope, nor freedom, nor real future. Sin and death are the apparent victors, and the present is as empty and forlorn as the desolate plaint of the enfeebled and failed messiah, whom we heard cry out from the cross just the day before. On this day we recall the original disciples --- broken by disappointment, grief, guilt, and shame, and stunned to terrified silence when the powers of the world overcame the One they called “Christ.” Their shattered hope for the definitive coming of God’s reign, and the ignominious, apparently unvindicated death of the man Jesus, stands at the center of our vision as well on this day. And in the shadow of this recollection, the bleakness of a world dominated by a power that regularly opposes and subverts the work of the Author of Life is clear. On this day, our entire horizon is death and the victory it has achieved over God’s Son, over us, and over our world. ]](Review For Religious, January/February 2001) With the eigth graders today we talked about all the things that would simply "go away" had Jesus stayed good and dead. There would be no Catholic school (with ALL that implies) for them, and many of their best friends would not be part of their lives. There would be no church, and nothing they have come to know and love because of that connection, not to mention teachers who love and nurture them in Christ, a place where religion is practiced openly, etc. I spoke of Sisters I would not have had Jesus stayed "good and dead," a vocation and life I could never have discovered or lived had the world of sin and death been triumphant that day, a hermitage which would be simply a barren apartment otherwise, friends, teachers, mentors, etc, who would never have become part of my life, and I then described the practice I do each year on Good Friday and which I complete during the weeks (especially the first week) of Easter. I encouraged them to give this a try themselves, and I encourage you similarly. From last year's post: [[I remove or cover anything from the environment of the hermitage which is meaningful in light of the Risen Christ. Of course that means an empty and open tabernacle, removal of the presence lamp, etc, but it also means any pictures, statuary, pictures of friends who are part of my life because of a shared faith, books . . . certificates or other pictures, etc. Again, anything which points to the meaningfulness and richness of my life because of the Risen Christ is removed and put away or covered. Ordinarily I take time as I do this, and consider what life might be like without these or what they represent. When it is the picture of a friend, I might focus on some of the times I failed to love them adequately, or some of the challenges to grow which their friendship confronted me with. Still the accent is on what life would be like without them and who I am because of them. I cannot reproduce the grief of the disciples, but I can get in touch with the times in my life where things have seemed senseless, or where I have struggled with grief, depression, loss, etc, and imagine what these would have been like without faith and the Risen Christ Beginning Easter Sunday I begin putting things back --- slowly. And as I do so I take time to pray in gratitude for what it means in my life. If it is a picture of a friend, then I take time to remember some of the times we have celebrated together, some of the victories their love has made possible. Ordinarily this process takes some days, a little each day during Easter week. Thus, while the Eucharist is immediately brought back to the tabernacle and the risen Christ is present in this way once again, Easter week continues to remind in small ways of Good Friday and Holy Saturday.]] If we are to really celebrate Easter we need to spend time with Good Friday and Holy Saturday as well. If we are to appreciate the meaning and experience the joy of the resurrection, we really need to understand what the world would have been like in light of Jesus' crucifixion and death alone, what, as one eigth grader put it, would "go away," and what we would really be left with. For most of us it is a stark and awful vision, not unlike the vision of reality Elie Wiesel saw with particular clarity on the day the innocent boy was hanged. (See post from last week.) Excursus: Text from Luke 24: "What is this conversation which you are holding with each other as you walk?" And they stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days:" And he said to them, "What things?" And they said to him, "Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since this happened. Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find his body; and they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb, and found it just as the women had said; but him they did not see."

More Followup Questions, "On Lemons and Lemonade"

[[Dear Sister O'Neal,
Again, thank you for your responses to my questions on vocation about taking lemons and making lemonade. I do understand the benefits of some of what you are saying, but a lot of it seems to conflict with the idea that the eremitical vocation is the highest form of a monastic vocation or that one needs to live a monastic life for years before being allowed to live as a hermit. It sounds to me like you believe just anyone can become a hermit and should if life has knocked them around a bit and created isolation and dislocation. Even if we are more careful than this about accepting people to become hermits doesn't this idea of the vocation have less dignity than the one which is more traditional in monastic life and church history?]]

Hello again. First let me respond to the overstatement you made regarding what I believe about the eremitical vocation. I don't think we will get anywhere so long as you believe this is what I am saying. No, I emphatically do not believe just anyone can become a hermit, nor should they simply because life has knocked them about and created isolation and dislocation. By far and away the majority of folks in such situations will be called by God to remain "in the world" reconnecting with people and serving both church and world from this vantage point. A relatively few people will rightly discern that they are called to be lay hermits, and a far fewer number will discern a call to diocesan eremitism or a community of hermits. While I DO believe there are some segments of the population who might have greater numbers of vocations to lay or diocesan eremitical life than others (chronically ill or single elderly in particular), the relative incidence of these vocations will ALWAYS be rare. I admit to being really surprised you thought I believed JUST anyone should become a hermit because I have actually been concerned that my posts are discouraging or overly cautious about this matter, and perhaps even elitist sounding. I would never have thought I was giving the opposite impression, but in a way, that is also reassuring.

Now, onto your real question. It is absolutely the case that eremitical life has been seen as the highest form of monastic life throughout much of the history of the church. This is true despite the origins of the vocation which pre-dated cenobitical monastic life altogether. By recognizing or allowing for the possibility that a number of people come to eremitical life without this formal monastic background and formation do we really diminish the dignity of the vocation itself? This question prompts others: Do we change the vocation's character in doing this? Is it wrong to admit lay persons to eremitical profession and consecration without this specific foundation, for instance? In doing so don't we detract from the idea given to monastery monastics that eremitical life is the highest form of monastic life?

Although I think your initial question raises all these additional ones, I am not sure I can answer them all, and certainly not right here. However, I can answer your original question about the dignity of the vocation, and my answer is really pretty simple: the vocation has dignity because and to the extent it is a call from God, not to the extent it measures on some scale of vocations in human terms. I believe that all eremitical vocations are essentially monastic because the heart of the term monastic really means "one" or "solitary." True inner solitude is developed over time, and it is in this regard especially (though not only) that eremitical life can be seen as the apex of monastic life. I also believe that some degree of monastic or religious formation is important to live this life, however, this does not mean one needs to get that formation IN a monastery or as a monastery monastic. Neither does it mean that monastics look at "graduating" to eremitical life as a goal any more than hermits per se think of entering reclusion as "graduating" or see this as the goal of either the eremite or the cenobite. While it is true that only a few monastics will ever hear a call to eremitical solitude, and even fewer to reclusion, and while it is true that eremitical life has in some ways rightly been seen as the epitome of monastic life, none of this can constrain the Holy Spirit from calling whomever s/he will and from whatever situation life creates.

Early on, in the days of the desert Fathers and Mothers, as you probably know, hermits were drawn from laity. It is probably true that as intriguing as this way of life was for thousands of folks, not all of them had calls to strict eremitical life. We would likely not have seen the development of cities in the desert or actual monasteries had all of these people been called to be hermits in the sense we use the word today, or in the sense of the desert Fathers and Mothers were who were called to the greater or inner deserts. Still, eremitical life was the life of a committed and devout laity. The process of becoming a hermit was individualized and much simpler than it is today: an elder in the life would take in the person to mentor, grant them the habit, and teach them all they needed to know by some direct instruction and insistence on the discipline or custody of the cell. To some extent, what we are seeing today is the resurgence and reappropriation of elements of this original calling.

What my posts have actually been calling for is the best of both worlds: the original call to the desert of the days of the desert Fathers and Mothers, and the formation, experience, focus and disciplines of monastic life itself. IF Bishops were to admit people to profession willy nilly, without sufficient formation (formal or informal), insufficient life experience, education (theological and spiritual), psychological health, and the ability to articulate clearly how it is God is calling them to a vocation which is grounded in love and is at once solitary and communal, then yes, there is a distinct danger that the eremitical vocation will be diminished in the process. So long as Bishops take care in these matters and with regard to the forms of consecrated life entrusted to them in Canon 605 I don't think the danger is very great. Education is needed, of course. Even Bishops need to read up on eremitism and especially contemporary diocesan eremitism. Meanwhile the lay eremitical vocation also needs to be made more well-known. All this will help with the concerns you raise.

The bottom line remains though, that the dignity of a vocation is a function of the divine call involved. So long as people take care to truly discern that action of God in people's lives, the vocation they discover will be divine and of infinite dignity --- whether it is also the epitome of monastic life or not. Such vocations should be treated with care, nurtured, cultivated, formed, but it is without question that the flower that sprouts from between the cracks of a residential sidewalk is of no less worth or validity than is the bloom that has been nurtured from seedlings in a monastery hothouse. Similarly, the flower that gives joy to those who see it springing from the cracks in the sidewalk has achieved its end and goal no less than the one decorating the church at Easter. Both are and are doing precisely what God has created them to be and do.

Again, I wish you peace, and a wonderful Holy Week.