God Always Says Yes to Us and Gives Godself to Us in Prayer!

Here is the piece I promised to repost in the follow up to the Abraham piece (On Being Terrible with Titles. . .).

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I was reading the story of the "importunate widow" in Luke and I have to ask why we are told to persist in prayer? We can't change God's mind and I was taught we shouldn't bargain with him or try to change it. You recently wrote an article about that very thing and you said that the story of Abraham bargaining with God over finding righteous people present in the city was not really a matter of bargaining even though that's the way it's mostly interpreted. (cf. Moving From Fear to Love) The way you heard the story wasn't the way I was taught it either, but it agrees with what I was taught about bargaining with God. So, I guess my question  is why not just accept his will in the matter and move on? You know, it's the, "God always answers prayer, sometimes he says no!" kind of approach. God said no, accept it and move on. Don't stubbornly insist on your own way!!]]

Excellent and important questions. I have written about this before as well. Please see Hope, Shamelessly Persistent Trust. More recently, I am reminded of something Pope Francis said in his conversations with Rabbi Skorka in a section on prayer. Thus, in answering your questions I would like to take what Francis said a bit farther and perhaps also correct him a bit (I am not sure that I am actually doing the latter but I am sure I am doing the former.) What Francis said is this, [[[In prayer] there are moments of profound silence, adoration, waiting to see what will happen. In prayer there coexists this reverent silence together with a sort of haggling, like when Abraham negotiated with God for the punished citizens of Sodom and Gomorra. Moses also bargains when he pleads for his people. He hopes to convince the Lord not to punish his people. This attitude of courage goes along with humility and adoration, which are essential for prayer.]] Rabbi Skorka responds by saying in part, [[The worst thing that can happen in our relationship with G_d is not that we fight with him, but that we become indifferent.]] I think this observation too figures into my response to your question.

In the article I wrote about the dialogue Abraham has with God over the fate of Sodom and Gomorra I indicated that Abraham was the "Father of Faith" and that he personified the trust people of faith are supposed to have. I also noted that he personifies a journey the people of Israel themselves are called to make. It is a journey in which he and they come to know and trust the unfathomable depth of God's mercy. What I suggested was that it takes time to come to know God as one who acts according to a very different standard or notion of justice than the ones we ordinarily reason to ourselves. Over time Abraham and the People of Israel come more and more to know the God whose justice is his mercy, who sets things right in the world through his creative mercy and love, who is sovereign insofar as his mercy reigns, etc. Thus, story after story in the Old Testament recounts the faithlessness and sin of the People and the constant faithfulness, forgiveness, and mercy of God. What I want to call your attention to here is how, over time in continued encounters with God it is the people who change; they are brought to greater and greater faith but they are also brought to a sense of their own poverty, concupiscence, and recalcitrance when on their own.

I believe that we are charged with persistence in prayer not so we can change God's mind, but so that in that prayer and in our own encounters with God --- including his silence and refusal to give us what we think we want or believe is best for us --- we ourselves may be changed and our relationship with God may grow and mature. Persistence in prayer allows us to meet the God of Jesus Christ with our needs and desires as well as without attitudes of proprietariness, worthiness, competence, righteousness, selfishness, omniscience, etc, etc, and over time examine all of these in the face of a God who ONLY loves us and desires the very best for and from us. Most of our attitudes will change in such continued prayer; our perspective on any number of things will change: death, suffering, time, and so forth as God invites us to look beyond the immediate situation and find a greater hope and promise than we ourselves can even imagine. It is a bit like a person coming up again and again against that which is unchanging and, over time, changing themselves.  In this case, however, they become more and more open to the actual answer for any prayer --- God's own presence and self --- and they come to know his faithfulness and presence no matter what else happens; their defining world becomes less merely that of time and space (though they will be made more capable of ministering within it) and more and more that of the Kingdom of God.

You see, in a real problem we especially don't want God as an added adversary or person we need to convince. We want him to journey with us and love and support us as only God can do, not be someone we are trying to convince and bargain with. Even so, in bargaining with the situation we will come, usually, to acceptance in ways we might not have otherwise. Bargaining is a part of grief, an arguing with our own pain and loss, a piece of coming to terms with a reality which has us helpless and powerless and articulating that bargaining to God so that he accompanies us in every moment and mood of our struggle is an entirely legitimate way to come to terms with reality. But only if we are persistent in it and use it as a way of working through our grief with God accompanying us AND, as you say in your question, not merely as a way of being stubborn or demanding God change things in the way we say God should.

The difference here is at least twofold: first any haggling is really one-sided --- we bargain (or better, we struggle) with our own pain and loss, our own lack of understanding and confusion and with inadequate notions of God. God listens and abides with us as our struggle with grief and loss challenge us to come to know ourselves and God better; God does not bargain. What looks like bargaining with God is really the outward appearance of our own struggle; God abides with us throughout and hears every movement of our hearts. It is not truly meant to change God because we know better, but rather, to come to know and share in his will to be with us in all things over time. Thus, it is marked by a corresponding openness to really hearing and accepting the will of God in whatever the situation is. In persistence we pour out our hearts to God and we do so again and again. In persistence we know that God is part of the answer, but we do not know precisely what shape that will ultimately take; as we continue to pray, we allow ourselves to become more and more determined to accept and even to aid God in that. Persistence is open to learning --- and to letting ourselves be shaped by the answers we will always receive. It is humble in its honesty, its openness, and in its naivete. Stubbornness, on the other hand, pretends to know what is best and how God should respond; it is closed to a deeper and higher wisdom, a more expansive vision of reality, or to the need to trust a God who is really mysterious in the best theological sense of that term.

While it is true God often does not answer our prayers with a "yes" in our precise terms, the problem with the "Sometimes God says no" answer is that it also presumes to know what God's answer is even as it does not allow us to continue importuning him. It short circuits the growth and maturation of the relationship that allows God to truly be God-with-us. It is an invitation to indifference and dismissal. The God who says no is not one we are usually open to walking with intimately on a daily basis or in difficult times. He is not one we can pour our hearts out to in all of our needs, weaknesses, distortions and darkness nor continue doing so until we ourselves eventually see the light or come to acceptance. Further, it continues to make of God someone who answers our prayers on our own level of understanding and expectation. It diminishes God and ourselves as well. My own experience is that God never says no. Whether we are at the beginning of a long "bargaining" process or months or years into it, God does not haggle; God always "says," "Here I am. Let me give you myself, my entire self, in this situation; let me live it with you. Let me transform you or situation with my compassionate presence. Let me deal with it and your own needs in ways you will one day realize are truly awesome. I promise, nothing whatsoever that you entrust to me will EVER be lost; all will be brought to life and completion in and with me!"

On Being Terrible with Titles and Following up on Abraham's Dialogue with God

[[ Hi Sister Laurel! I noticed you changed the title on your Abraham post and I was curious why. You also changed a few other things and I wondered if you do that a lot on posts once they are "finished." My pastor also gave a homily on bargaining with God and I think Pope Francis said something about this too one time. Couldn't Abraham be said to be bargaining or negotiating with God because it sounds to me like he is trying to convince God about what justice really means, especially that God shouldn't destroy the innocent with the evil.]]

Hi there yourself! Yes, I changed the title, mainly in an attempt to shorten it. I am not really good with titles (actually, I am awful with them!) and am always happy when I can come up with one I actually like. This is one place where I think of my former pastor a lot. He was great with titles and would ask me what title I would give a reflection I had done, for instance, as a way of summarizing and characterizing the piece. It's something I never managed to learn from him --- unfortunately, I could rarely come up with a good title!! On the Abraham piece I wish I had entitled it something like, [[God we know you love us, but how much?]] or [[Just how merciful is this God of Ours?]] or [[Justice AND mercy, how can God do both?]]

Notice in the lection as we had it for Sunday it is presupposed that God is one that destroys evil (and thus too, the innocent with it). This conception of God is almost hard-wired into religious folks' brains. Thus, floods were signs of God's wrath, as was illness, bad luck, famine and catastrophe of any kind. However, the reading itself does not say God is going to destroy the city, only that he is going to visit it and find out for himself if the hue and cry against it is warranted. Abraham is the one who raises the issue of destruction, not God. In fact, in the text of Genesis a few verses earlier there is no reference to God destroying the city; there is only the question when God muses to himself, [[Should I tell Abraham what I am about to do?]] We assume we know what God will do with evil --- if, of course, God has the power to deal with it at all.

This suggests to me that the lection as we have it, and the dialogue between Abraham and God which stands at its heart is meant to reveal something we believe we already know about God and about how God "does justice" or deals with evil, when in fact, we need to be taught the truth and allow the real God to be revealed to us. In other words, it is meant to correct our presuppositions and assumptions, especially the ones we hold about God and the way God works in our world (i.e., our idols and common blasphemies). I think it is also meant to correct assumptions we have about ourselves too, especially our assumption that we know better than God how to deal with evil or how to define and do justice. 

When I read Sunday's text, Abraham does not come across so much as a clever and just man as he does a bit of a fool in dealing with God as he does. This is another reason I tend to read the text not as Abraham himself bargaining with God or demonstrating a better justice to God, but more as the personification of a long debate going on in humanity and particularly in those who would become God's own people regarding what divine justice really looks like and just how merciful could God possibly be. Those questions are not definitively answered until the Christ Event, but Sunday's reading takes us a long way in preparation for that definitive answer.

So, while you are correct that the dialogue is couched in terms of haggling or bargaining (with bits of wheedling thrown in for good measure), and while Abraham's persistence in pushing the point with God gives another lesson re perseverance in prayer, for instance, I don't think we can say the reading is about bargaining with God (nor do we want to encourage folks to bargain or haggle with God). Instead, it is a literary way of representing perennial questions that occur in the face of suffering, loss, and actual evil, questions about the nature of Divinity and divine justice as well as about divine sovereignty and the existence of good in the midst of evil. I think too that the lection demonstrates how important God is to our ability to ask questions and to push them as far as we need to do without having to worry that that is not appropriate with God. 

Though this takes the reading in a very uncommon direction it is an important one for those who believe faith cuts off questioning in science, theology, etc. Quite the opposite is true and Abraham as the Father of genuine Faith demonstrates this; faith allows questioning. In fact faith in God allows and actually invites us to push our questioning as far as we need to push it as an expression of genuine faith. So, for instance, science and faith belong together, not only because they are compatible and complementary ways of knowing, but because faith, which affirms the existence of the One we know as infinite Mystery, assures us we can push our questions as far as we need to without ever reaching the end of what is knowable. It is the infinite Mystery we call God which makes faith necessary and science possible. 

Regarding Pope Francis, yes, you are correct he spoke about bargaining with God in a homily about this text once. I referenced that in a follow up question to the original post (published several years ago). I will see if I can locate it and put it up here -- perhaps as part of this response, but at least as a link.

Moving From Fear to Love and Trust: Coming to Know God's Justice is Revealed in God's Exhaustive Mercy

(I first posted a version of this in 2013. A homilist used the image of Abraham bargaining with God as a form of persistence in prayer. I think that's a serious mistake!)

Today's readings speak to us in profound and very challenging ways I think. The first, which I am going to focus on here, is from Genesis 18 and recounts a dialogue between Abraham (the Father of Faith and one whose faith is counted as righteousness) and God over whether God will indeed destroy Sodom if a number of righteous people can be found there. You remember it no doubt: God has heard rumors of the tremendous evil of this city and determines he will find out for himself. If things are as bad as he has heard, then he will destroy the city and everyone therein. This is typical Jewish belief in Israel's early dealings with God --- but their faith has some growing to do as God gradually reveals himself more truly as exhaustively merciful than they could have imagined. It will cause them to reevaluate both God's mercy and God's justice in the process in surprising ways.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Esteeming Petitionary Prayer as True Prayer of Praise! (Reprise)

I recently read a blog piece referring to the prayer of praise as a higher form of prayer than the prayer of petition. I have to say that first of all I don't much care for establishing some forms of prayer as "higher" than others. I know the whole practice has a long and regarded history in the area of spirituality but despite the fact that I can understand some of this ranking business, I just can't accept it as I once might have. But we are just finishing a Bible Study class on the Lord's Prayer (part of the series on the Sermon on the Mount) and the very first thing commentators ordinarily point out is that this prayer, this model and paradigm of what Jesus knew as prayer and desired to teach us is that it is ALL petitions. With the exception of the invocation itself (Abba, Pater! or Our Father, Who art in heaven) every line of Jesus' Prayer is composed of petitions --- and even then, I think we must hear the invocation as also implicitly petitionary! To call upon God by Name is to (responsively) give God a place to stand in space and time, specifically in our own lives and this, after all, is what God has desired of us --- that we become God's counterparts in God's own enterprise of Love; we therefore ask God to be sovereign, to be God for us. After all, to hallow is a verb only God can do, while name meant God's own powerful presence or Self in our lives! The hallowing of God's name we ask for is a Semitic way of saying,, [[God, please be God for us in the holy-making way only you can do/be!!]]

Each line of the prayer is meant to assist us in opening our hearts, minds, and lives to the powerful presence of God who wills to work in and through each of us. So, if this is the case, and this Lord's Prayer is a model or paradigm of the very essence of prayer, the model or paradigm which represents "the mind of Christ" and the way we "put on the mind of Christ" then can we really argue there are "higher forms of prayer than petition"? To put it another way, isn't opening ourselves to another in love and trust the greatest praise one can offer another? And isn't petition, especially as Jesus articulates and orders these in any of the three or four versions we have, an invitation to genuine praise, namely, by putting God's needs first, and our needs/desires second? We are not, in other words, to be people who merely say, "Lord, Lord" (or "Praise God!"), but to BE (the) people who, petition by petition, give our whole selves over to God as the field from which God will bring forth the hidden treasure of God's Kingdom! In this way we are allowed to participate in God establishing God's very life on earth as it is in heaven. We are called, by every petition to open ourselves to the unremitting hallowing of God, to become, that is, living instances of Divine Praise!

One of the theologians who most influenced me when I was a young theologian myself was Gerhard Ebeling. Ebeling wrote a lot about theological linguistics and about human beings as Word Events. Each of us is called to become language events. An event differs from a mere occurrence in terms of meaning; an Event is something filled with meaning where a mere occurrence is relatively empty of significance. Like Jesus (though only in and through Jesus!!) we are to become incarnate Word of God --- meaningful Word Events created by and for God's Word, especially in the form of Proclamation. Most often I think of all of this in terms of becoming an articulate expression of the Gospel of God or becoming God's own prayer in our world. (Some theologians speak of Jesus as the Parable of God --- an identity that grounds and thus characterizes all he is and does, especially in preaching and teaching.) In light of what I have said about becoming a Word or Language Event, perhaps it would not be far off to suggest that we are to become articulate songs or hymns of Praise. As we pray the petitions of the Lord's Prayer, we open ourselves to the Presence, sovereignty, and will of God, don't we thus praise God in truth as well as in our words and become ourselves "Words of Divine Praise"? Could there possibly be a "higher" form of prayer?

I say this as a contemplative whose primary form of prayer is quiet prayer, but for whom other forms of prayer are meant to be equally contemplative, equally the work of the Spirit of Stillness or hesychasm. What I recognize is the dynamics of petitionary prayer and quiet prayer, for instance, are essentially the same: in each form of prayer we pose the question of (i.e., which is) our own incomplete lives and open ourselves to God's dynamic presence so that God might act within us, to touch, heal, strengthen, sanctify and complete us. Prayer is always God's own work in us. Isn't it time to let go of the notion of higher and lower forms of prayer?

When the Stone Was Rolled Away: FEAST of St Mary Magdalene (Reprise)

(First published 22. July. 2016) Probably everyone is aware by now that today's commemoration of Saint Mary Magdalene is indeed a FEAST. I heard a great homily on this from my pastor last Sunday --- it was on both the raising of Mary Magdalene's liturgical celebration from a memorial to an actual feast and Pope Francis' move to create a commission to look into the historical facts regarding the ordination of women as deacons in the church. Change comes slowly in the Catholic Church --- though sometimes it swallows up the Gospel (or significant elements of the Gospel) pretty quickly as it did with last Sunday's story which was originally about Jesus' treating Mary of Bethany as a full disciple sitting at his feet just as males (and ONLY males) did. As we know, that story --- when read without sensitivity to historical context --- has been tamed to make it say instead that contemplative life was the greater good or vocation than active or ministerial life; still, once the stone has been rolled away as it is in today's Gospel, and we are able to hear the radicality of the good news and the call to apostleship, we may find the Spirit of God is irrepressible in bringing (or at least seeking to bring) about miracles.

One sign the stone is being rolled away by Pope Francis is the raising of Mary Magdalene's day to a Feast. For the entire history of the Church Mary Magdalene has been known as "Apostle to the Apostles" but mainly this has been taken in an honorific but essentially toothless way with little bite and less power to influence theology or the role of women in the Church. But raising the Magdalene's day to the level of a Feast changes all that. This is because the Feast comes with new prayers -- powerful statements of who Mary was and is for the Church, theological statements with far-reaching implications about Jesus' choices and general practice regarding women (especially calling for a careful reading of other stories of his interactions with women), a critical look at the way the early church esteemed and ministered WITH women and not merely to them --- especially as indicated in the authentic writings of Paul, and the unique primacy of Mary Magdalene over the rest of the Apostles (including even Peter) as a source of faith, witness, and evangelism.

The Church's longstanding and cherished rule in all of this is Lex Orandi, lex credendi, literally, "the law (or norm) of prayer is the law (norm) of belief", but more adequately, "As we pray, so we believe." And what is true as we examine the new readings and prayers associated with today's Feast is that the way we pray with, with regard to, and to God through the presence of Mary Magdalene has indeed changed with wide-ranging implications as noted above. The Church Fathers have written well and I wanted to look briefly at a couple of the texts they have given us for the day's Mass, namely the opening prayer and the Preface to the Eucharistic Prayer.

 The Opening Prayer Reads: [[O God, whose Only Begotten Son entrusted Mary Magdalene before all others with announcing the great joy of the Resurrection, grant, we pray, that through her intercession and example we may proclaim the living Christ and come to see him reigning in your glory. Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit.
R. Amen.

What is striking to me here is the very clear affirmation that Mary was commissioned (entrusted) by Christ with the greatest act of evangelization anyone can undertake, namely, the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus' Resurrection from the dead. This is a matter of being summoned to and charged with a direct and undisputed act of preaching the one reality upon which is based everything else Christians say and do. It is the primal witness of faith and the ground of all of our teaching. It is what allows Paul to say quite bluntly, if this is false, if Jesus is not raised from the dead, then Christians are the greatest fools of all. It is this kerygma Mary is given to proclaim. Moreover, there is a primacy here. Mary Magdalene is not simply first among equals --- though to be thought of in such a way among Apostles and the successors of Apostles in the Roman Catholic Church is a mighty thing by itself --- but she was entrusted (commissioned) with this charge "before all others". There is a primacy here and the nature of that, it seems to me, especially when viewed in the context of Jesus' clearly counter cultural treatment of women, is not merely temporal; it has the potential to change the way the Church has viewed the role of women in ministry including ordained (diaconal) ministry. The Preface is as striking. It reads:

Preface of the Apostle of the Apostles

It is truly right and just,
our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give you thanks,
Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God,
whose mercy is no less than His power,
to preach the Gospel to everyone, through Christ, our Lord.
In the garden He appeared to Mary Magdalene
who loved him in life, who witnessed his death on the cross,
who sought him as he lay in the tomb,
who was the first to adore him when he rose from the dead, and whose apostolic duty [office, charge, commission] was honored by the apostles, so that the good news of life might reach the ends of the earth.
And so Lord, with all the Angels and Saints,
we, too, give you thanks, as in exultation we acclaim: Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts. . . (Working Translation by Thomas Rosica CSB)

Once again, we see two things especially in the Preface: 1) the use of the term Apostle (or apostolic duty [office or charge]) used in a strong sense rather than in some weak and merely honorific sense --- this is, after all, the Preface of the Apostle of the Apostles!!! (Note how this translation brings Mary right INTO the collegio of Apostles in a way "to" may not; here she is definitely first among equals) --- and 2) a priority or kind of primacy in evangelization which the apostles themselves honored. In the preface there is a stronger sense of Mary being first among equals than in the prayer I think, but the lines stressing that Mary adored Jesus in life, witnessed his death on a cross --- something which was entirely unacceptable in ordinary society and from which the male disciples fled in terror --- and that she sought him in the dangerous and ritually unacceptable place while the rest of his disciples huddled in a room still terrified and completely dispirited, these lines make the following reference to "apostolic duty" --- which Mary also carried out in the face of general disbelief --- and thus, to Mary's temporal (but not merely temporal) primacy over the other apostles all the stronger.

Do Not Cling to Me: Another Sign the Stone has been Rolled Away

 

Part of today's gospel is the enigmatic challenge to Mary's address of Jesus as "Rabbouni" or Rabbi -- teacher. In response Jesus says, "Do not cling to me!" He then reminds Mary he has yet to ascend to his Father and her Father, his God and her God. What is going on here? Mary honors Jesus with a title of respect and great love and Jesus rebuffs and reproves her! The answer I think is that Mary identifies Jesus very specifically with Judaism and even with a specific role within Judaism. But Jesus can no longer be identified with such a narrow context. He is the Risen Christ and will soon be the ascended One whose presence, whose universality (and even his cosmic quality), will be established and freshly mediated in all sorts of unexpected and new ways. To be ascended is not to be absent but to be present as God is present --- a kind of omnipresence or ever-presence we must learn to perceive and trustingly embrace. This too is a critical part of Mary's commission or officio; she is called to proclaim this as well --- the eschatological or cosmic reality in and through which the Gospel of God's presence is opened to all the world.

Jesus tells Mary Magdalene, who is already aware that he is difficult to recognize as the Risen Christ, not to cling to old images, old certainties, narrow ways of perceiving and understanding him. He reminds her he will be present and known in new ways; he tells her not to cling to the ones she is relatively comfortable with. And he makes her, literally and truly, Apostle of and to the Apostles with a world-shattering kerygma or proclamation whose astonishing Catholicity goes beyond anything they could have imagined.

And so, it is with us and with the Church herself. On this new Feast Day, we must understand the stone has been rolled away and the Risen and Ascended Christ may be present in ways we never expected ways which challenge our intellectual certainties and theologically comfortable ways of seeing and knowing. Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, as we pray so we believe. What a potentially explosive and ultimately uncontrollable rule beating at the heart of the Church's life and tradition!! The stone has been rolled away and over time our new and normative liturgical prayer will be "unpacked" by teachers and theologians and pastoral ministers of all sorts while the truth contained there will be expressed, honored, and embodied in ever-new ways by the entire Body of Christ --- if only we take Jesus' admonition seriously and cease clinging to him in ways which actually limit the power and reach of the Gospel in our world.

Like the original Apostles we are called to honor Mary Magdalene's apostleship so that the "good news of life [can] reach the ends of the earth." We pray on this Feast of St Mary Magdalene that that may really be so.

The Silence of Solitude as Charism or Gift to the Church and World (Reprise)

John Kasper, Allen Vigneron, Marietta Fahey
and me (kneeling) at perpetual profession

First posted 5 years ago, 8/27/17. [[Dear Sister, thanks for posting what you have about diocesan hermits. You say that your vocation is a gift to the Church and to the world. I am having a hard time describing to a friend how it is that this is so. I don't mean that I don't believe it, only that I cannot explain it. Could you say specifically what you mean when you speak of the charism of your vocation or the gift it is to Church and World? Thank you!]]

Great question! Thanks. The eremitical vocation, and in my case the solitary eremitical vocation, is always very clearly a gift of God to the hermit. It is the way she comes to freedom from various forms of bondage, the way she experiences redemption and grows to wholeness and holiness. It is the way God shapes the weaknesses, deficiencies, as well as the gifts and talents of the hermit's life into a coherent whole so that all of these things witness to the grace of God. When I try to speak of what this means in my life I have sometimes said that God transformed what was often a scream of anguish into a Magnificat of praise. (Neither part of this illustration is hyperbolic.)  But, because this is the work of God, because vocation is ALWAYS the work of God, it must be a gift to others as well and especially, it is a gift to the Church even as it is a gift to the whole world. It is by reflecting on the way the vocation transforms and transfigures my own life that I come to understand how it is a gift to these as well; when I do one phrase from canon 603 begins to sound in my heart and mind, namely, the silence of solitude. I think this phrase describes the charism or specific gift quality of the solitary eremitical vocation both in my own life and as that life is lived for the sake of the salvation of others. So let me summarize what I mean by "the silence of solitude" and why it is the unique gift I am asked to bring to the Church and world.

There are all kinds of silence but I think they can be divided into external or physical silence and inner silence. The silence of solitude is a combination of both of these but what I want to focus on throughout this response is how "the silence of solitude" reflects more than anything an inner wholeness and silence we each seek and need --- an inner wholeness and silence we are really called to by God. This silence is the quiet of inner peace, a silence that sings with the presence of God, and resonates with the love one knows as part of the Body of Christ, part of the family of mankind, and part of the Mystery of Creation more generally. It is the silence of belonging, of knowing one's value and the meaningfulness of one's life, the silence of the cessation of striving for these things or the noise of existential and unfulfillable yearning for them. The Jewish term which might best be applied to this particular silence is shalom. I say this because it is a dynamic, living thing which pulses with the life, peace, and promise of God even as it quietly and confidently contemplates that same God in wonder and love.

What you may notice is how intrinsically related to God and others, and to one's deep or true self too, this "solitude" is in what c 603 calls "the silence of solitude". The "silence of solitude" does involve an external silence and physical solitude; the hermit cannot live the inner reality without this. But in a deeper way the silence of solitude is a paradoxical reality I have to describe in terms of harmony and music and life and singing and relating to and resonating with others. The "silence of solitude" referred to in c 603 describes not only the outer environment of the hermitage, but the inner reality of loving and being loved in a way which witnesses to the truth that God alone is enough for us. So long as the relational element is missing from our definitions or descriptions, and so long as the "musical" or living dimension is omitted we can be sure we have missed the point of this phrase in the canon. But when we include it we begin to understand why the hermit's vocation is truly a gift to the Church and others.

The hermit lives alone; she lives in relative silence. And yet, the consecrated hermit, the solitary canon 603 hermit or the hermit living in a canonical community also consciously embraces an ecclesial vocation where the dimension of commissioning by and for the Church is never absent. These hermits have Rules and formal relationships (legitimate superiors, delegates, faith community expectations) which qualify or condition the quality of their solitude at every point. They are engaged in ongoing formation which empowers continuing healing, growth, greater maturity and even genuine holiness. 

They do this in order to witness to the grace of God and its place in transforming the isolation and alienation of every life into something hermits recognize as the Person glorifying (i,e, revealing) the God we know as Love-in-Act. Individualism, isolation, alienation, the muteness and anguish of bondage have no place here. Powerfully and paradoxically the hermit stands against each and all of these in the freedom and profound relatedness canon 603 refers to as "the silence of solitude." As one called and commissioned to live this reality she witnesses to the possibility of being genuinely whole, truly happy, complete and capable of the relatedness, generosity, and love God's grace makes possible in every life --- even when the person has no worldly status, no physical wealth or power, no family or friends, and perhaps no place even to "lay her head". This is the charism of her vocation and life, the gift God bestows on Church and world through consecrated eremitical life.

I can spell some of this out more concretely perhaps, but I am hoping it gives you the beginnings of an answer to your question. To summarize: in a world torn apart by divisions of all kinds, by the rampant individualism marking and driving so much of its terrible dysfunction and disorder as well as by a grasping at and use of others with distorted forms of "love" and relatedness, the hermit ostensibly stands alone, but really is made whole and of almost infinite value by the continuing power and presence of the God she knows as Love-in-Act. She proclaims the potential held by each and every life and the way in which that potential can be realized by the grace of God. To stand apparently alone in the name of the Church, witnessing to the possibility, power, and presence of Love and the indispensability of deep and harmonious relatedness with God, self, and others ("the silence of solitude", the song of shalom), that is her charism, the charism or gift of her solitary eremitical vocation.

Road Trip!!! Sisters of the Holy Family Motherhouse

Sundial on MH Grounds

I don't get out much and during the pandemic it has been even harder to do, but today (Friday, 15 July) Sister Marietta and I are going on a road trip to visit her Motherhouse in Fremont and spend the day together. We are celebrating several years of intense work and where that has brought us, so I am excited!! The Motherhouse and grounds in question have changed over the last few years (also intense years of work!) with three "cottages" replacing the original building including one for Sisters who need more care than others and a separate oratory. The grounds have been repurposed in several ways including some of the space being used for low-income housing, a park held in trust by a non-profit group, and access to healthcare for low-income seniors. Because Marietta's congregation (Sisters of the Holy Family) is moving toward the completion of their life, they wanted to be sure the values the Sisters have always held and embodied, those they have worked towards and in light of in so many ways, were built right into the continued use of the property and resources the Sisters would one day leave behind. Today I get to see the results of all of that hard work and letting go (kenosis) so that the SHF charism could continue to live in Fremont, CA and beyond as well.

I have been to the SHF Motherhouse before, but it was a long 
time ago (@1984) for a profession or other special celebration. The MH Chapel was beautiful, of course, and typical of chapels built at that time. I never really had a chance to walk the grounds or take in all that was part of the complex itself. And now a lot of that has changed. I have seen pictures of the new cottages and grounds and heard a few stories as well. Sister Marietta was in leadership (2+ terms) when much of this was planned and carried out, so she has an insider's view of things and today she is my tour guide. Pretty cool. I am hoping my imagination has taken in at least some of what Marietta has described to me because where my own mind tends to go instead is to all of the hard decisions, letting go, demolition, chaos, red-tape, and grief involved in this many-year project. I'll return to this post after our "road trip."

Returning from today's Road Trip:

KAZOWEE! What a great day and how incredibly impressed I am with what the Sisters of the Holy Family have created as they faced into the future with compassion, courage, and creativity! 2022, is the 150th anniversary of the congregation's founding and as Sister Gladys Guenther, Congregational President notes, [[No milestone anniversary escapes the desire to leave something for future generations.]] Well, the Sisters of the Holy Family remain a faithful presence in Fremont, the Bay area and beyond**, but the gift they have given to the larger community, even once the Sisters have gone, is hard to describe in its beauty, thoughtfulness, and love. They have indeed left something for future generations in ways which will make innumerable lives better and even serve as a paradigm for other religious congregations.

Sister Marietta Fahey, SHF

As noted, at the heart of this complex of projects are the 3 cottages where the Sisters reside (capacity @16 Sisters per cottage). Each one has a community room with flat screen TV, dining room, and also a prayer space with tabernacle. Each Sister has her own room with a kitchenette area and space for microwave, small refrigerator, hot pot, etc. The two cottages on either end have a large kitchen (probably the third cottage does also, I just can't remember that). Between two of the cottages is the oratory where Mass is celebrated, and larger meetings are held. There is a closed-circuit TV system linking everything so services can be "beamed" to the cottages for Sisters who cannot attend events in the oratory. Each cottage has its own patio area and behind the oratory was a large, canopied area with many circular tables for receptions, space for meals with guests, etc. This is where Marietta and I brought our lunch and ate. It is surrounded by flowers and greenery of all sorts, along with level walkways, and sits on a large area of artificial grass. Throughout all of this, think solar panels, environmentally sensitive plantings and materials, double-paned doors and windows, and anything else necessary for a project attuned to a smaller carbon footprint and the needs of creation.

What is most striking about all of this beauty and functionality (besides the presence of bees and more Monarch butterflies than I have seen in years) is the fact that the Sisters built this complex knowing and planning for the fact that, as noted above, one day they would be no more. When it came time to decide what to do with the Motherhouse property as part of plans for the Sisters' future there were a number of options. The Sisters wanted to remain where they were; they chose to age in place and what has been built here will allow that in complete faithfulness to the Sisters' identity as Sisters of the Holy Family. By itself that would be a tremendous achievement; this is, however, only the beginning of what the SHF have accomplished here. In time, also in complete faithfulness to the SHF charism, the cottages could be given over to low-income housing for seniors in need, those with disabilities, etc., which would allow for groups like On Lok to provide healthcare, physical therapy, and in-home care or assisted living. The oratory could be converted to a meeting or community room. No specific decisions have been made at this point. Discernment, of course, continues.

As Marietta showed me around, I thought a bit about the town where I had grown up in Southern California. In a couple of places in our town we had low-income or "public" housing. We called these complexes, "the projects," and a grimmer place was hard to imagine: large shoebox-shaped rectangles divided into tiny apartments with facades as bereft of imagination or beauty as the Pete Seeger song's, "little boxes made of ticky tacky" that "all look just the same"; there were a few bushes planted up against the buildings as I recall, but relatively few trees, no landscaping to speak of, and large lawns mostly given over to clothes lines, dirt (or mud, depending on the season), and dust over everything; in later years the windows were covered with bars and the grounds were given over to used condoms, syringes, needles, and other detritus of hopelessness. 

Except for energetic little children playing together, it felt like a soulless and soul-destroying place. To grow up in "the projects" was, it seemed to me, either a badge of courage or of shame (I could never be sure which --- though now I know it was both). The taunt that one lived in or was from "the projects" often led to fistfights as the poorest of the poor struck back. What strikes me now is how the "quality" of the housing there -- all designed and constructed devoid of real care or quality resources --- served to teach me (wrongly!!) about the value of the people living in the projects. But the Sisters of the Holy Family have always seen the value and potential of those they ministered to --- the poorest among us, and especially to families and children. In light of this SHF complex of projects, they will continue doing that even when the last Sister has died; every detail of what they have built and will leave behind them is beautiful and teaches a very different series of lessons than those I was taught by "the projects" of my childhood. And so, my own sense of the SHF's achievement deepened even further as Marietta showed me more of what they had realized here.

Original Private Residence on MH Grounds

Parts of the Motherhouse property (@5.5 acres) have already been given over to a quiet park, a place of genuine peace in the midst of the world's struggle, bustling, and (sometimes) busy emptiness. (Marietta described once meeting a man in the park while he was sitting on a bench eating his lunch. When she greeted him with a friendly question, he explained he was "on retreat"!) It will be kept as open green space in perpetuity. Think sacred space and a commitment to the United Nations Earth Charter here. Another 6.5 acres have been given over to what has become a village of low-income houses, apartments for seniors, and so forth. I was completely gobsmacked by the beauty and diversity of the houses. Nothing in this looked like "low-income" housing. Diverse architecture with character and variations in color from house to house, space for living, and a sense of quiet and safety marked the whole. 

Where the former Motherhouse itself once stood, there are now several large single-family houses opening onto the park area. (The Sister's cottages and oratory -- the new Motherhouse --- are safely gated and closed to the public who might use the park or walk the neighborhood including the private driveway alongside the cottages; fencing of the cottages is already covered by greenery creating a natural sense of enclosure and privacy --- but also of belonging.) All of this sang of care and grace -- in all of the senses held by either term. All of it witnessed to the value of every single life and the capacity each possesses --- a value the Sisters of the Holy Family were, again, founded to protect and nurture. Most amazingly then, in this project (or complex of projects) the young and old, the poor and the wealthy live side-by-side without distinction or clear delineation. Again, it is an incredible achievement -- an achievement that will outshine (and be worthy of) all of the prayer, struggle, grief, letting go, chaos, red tape, etc., I found so much easier to imagine before seeing the results.

Jean Francois Millet, The Gleaners

There is a single word characterizing the identity and ministry of the Sisters of the Holy Family. They are gleaners. With roots in the OT books of Leviticus and Ruth and the NT ministry of Jesus, here is a description of the meaning of the term written in the article, "150 Years of Gleaning" Family of Friends (Spring 2022): [[ . . .Jesus. . . told his followers: "Open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest."  Yet, there is wheat dropped from this reaping that lies hidden, full of potential but left behind. Will this grain never be gathered in? Close to sunset, other people enter the fields --- gleaners --- bending low in the quickening darkness to search among the stubble, finding not sheaves of grain, but kernels on the margins of the harvest. For 150 years the Sisters of the Holy Family have gleaned the fields for God. We as gleaners look for the underserved, the marginalized, those undiscovered by other laborers in the fields of the Lord. This is our mission, our purpose and our joy. . ..]]

A Final Word:

Event in new Oratory

The Sisters of the Holy Family I know give themselves daily in faithfulness to a God who sees each one of us as persons of infinite value, beauty, and potential. They see as God sees and they work hard to bring to birth and fullness of being all that God wills in and through their ministry. They look clearly at and live fully in the present with hearts rooted in the hope-filled future God is summoning into being through them and the rest of us in Christ. As a result, they have always been pioneers and prophets, and that is true here too. They have created a space of beauty and peace where human beings can live and die with integrity and a sense of having value and dignity, no matter their income, cultural or ethnic background, religion, age, etc., --- a place that will continue and even expand the Sisters' mission once they have all gone home to God. 

If I have been too repetitive in this piece, if it seems like three or four different pieces because I had to start and stop several times as I processed what I had seen and heard, or if words have failed me too often, my apologies. The fact is I cannot adequately express how impressed I am with what these women have done (for this was a women's project driven by women's sensibilities at every point) except to say that I am moved to tears of pride and joy every time I think of it.

** The Sisters of the Holy Family began in San Francisco (Foundress: Mother Dolores Armer, with Father John Prendergast) and then moved or spread out to Oakland, Fremont, San Diego, the Central Valley, Texas, Utah, Nevada, Kentucky, South Dakota, Alaska and Hawaii.

Feast of Saint Benedict: Hospitality is a Synonym for Mercy

When, while reflecting on Friday's readings several years ago, I told the story of the Nickel Mines massacre (we could point to several very recent ones this year alone including Ulvalde, TX), I mainly focused on the theme of forgiveness and how it is that the Amish were capable of forgiving Roberts (the shooter) and also extending that forgiveness to his widow and larger family. When Matthew, as we heard this last week, tells us not to worry about what we are to say in such crises because the Holy Spirit will  provide us with whatever that is, it reminded me of the Amish practice of forgiving routinely, consciously living from the Gospel, and thereby creating habits of the heart which do indeed enable them (and us) to speak and act as Christians empowered by the Holy Spirit in even such terrible situations. My point those years ago was that we are called as Christians to hand on the Gospel of reconciliation and the Amish show us vividly what that means.

But those daily readings have to do with more than just forgiving those who hurt us. Again, and again references are made to a richer or broader concept than forgiveness as we ordinarily understand it. That broader concept, that reality is the mercy of God. As I reflected and meditated on these readings I was reminded once again of how inadequate our common notion of mercy actually is. Too often we see it as "letting someone off the hook" or as "the opposite (or at least the mitigation) of justice." Too often I have the impression we see mercy as a form of sentimentalism or weakness, and we say that God's mercy must be balanced by his justice (or vice versa).  But Pope Francis, Walter Cardinal Kasper and others are clear that God's mercy is his justice. It is in being merciful that God sets things right and establishes a Kingdom we can hardly imagine. Matthew's readings from the last few days along with the tragedy at Nickel Mines helps us understand how that is the case.

These readings speak of forgiveness, but they also convey the more expansive and challenging idea that when God is merciful it means that he gives us a place to belong, a place in his own life, a place where we are safe and free to be ourselves, a place which is free from fear and where vulnerability is not dangerous to us but is an altogether (if still risky) human and normal reality.  When God forgives it means God extends his mercy to those who are sinners, those who are strangers or aliens, those who have offended him and injured those most precious to God (including themselves!). After all a sinner is one who quite literally has made herself alien to God, a stranger whom God does not know in that intimate Biblical sense of the term. In each of the readings there are references to being offered such a place, being made to be other than orphans or sinners, being shown compassion and having a place in God's own life.

In the Gospel lections over these past days Matt is dealing with a community being torn apart because of the new faith; it is a community in which the people are asked to continue to proclaim the Good News in the face of all opposition (including that of their own families) and to offer mercy and make neighbors and even family of strangers and aliens on a level which was not common otherwise. And yet, this Good News cuts sharply and demands real strength from us. Both the Nickle Mines Amish and St Benedict, whose Feast day is tomorrow, help us to understand this mercy in terms of doing justice and making the world a different place -- the world of neighbors, not aliens. The word which ties all three dimensions together, forgiveness, mercy as offering people a place to truly belong, as well as the stories of the Amish and St Benedict, is hospitality. What I came to see in reflecting on the readings, the original story of Nickle Mines and my own Benedictine Tradition is that hospitality and mercy stand as synonyms in the Christian Tradition.

In the Nickle Mines massacre the Amish offered forgiveness almost immediately and I told that story a few years ago. But there was more to the story, more that I did not know until I read the book, Amish Grace. Forgiveness would have allowed the participants in that story to move forward without holding grudges. It would have allowed a more or less easy peace with the world of the "English" and especially with the gunman's wife, children, and larger family. But this was not sufficient for the Amish. They literally welcomed the gunman's family into their lives. Not only did they allow Robert's wife and mother to visit the victims regularly, but, as I may have noted, his Mother came weekly to the most badly injured child and read to her, sang to her and sometimes bathed her. Robert's parent held pool parties for the children and had teas for the parents. They were welcome in one another's homes. Indeed the Amish children were reported to have said to Robert's Mom, you haven't come to read or sing to us yet; when will you come and visit us? Everyone involved spoke of "the new normal" they had to get used to --- there was no going back to the way it was or pretending it had not happened! But additionally they worked hard to create a "new normal" in which strangers became neighbors and neighbors became family. In short, they showed mercy as well as forgiveness and changed the nature of their world for everyone involved.

It is more than a little appropriate then that the Church asks us to revisit these readings and I choose to revisit this story on the feast of St Benedict. Benedictines know that hospitality is a key virtue and very high value in the Christian life. In the Rule of St Benedict we are reminded that everyone who comes to our door is to be treated as Christ. All monasteries have guesthouses and most do a wonderful job of accommodating guests as they would Christ himself. But hospitality is about more than providing someone a place to sleep or a seat and plate at our table. It is about learning to see the face of an individual in place of that of the stranger; it is about overcoming the stereotypes and bigotry that are parts of our own hearts and ways of seeing reality. It is about facing the fears within us that are triggered by our encounters with those who are different than we are and in so doing, making of the world a place which is truly more just and safer for everyone. To be merciful to another is to do the same. It is to allow them a place in our lives, yes, but even more it means to let them into our hearts.

When the young man asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" as he did in today's Gospel, Jesus doesn't point to any single group. Instead he tells the story of the good Samaritan, the quintessential alien who cares for a man (an enemy) who has been mugged and who then ensures that "enemy's" future care at a local inn as well.  Neighbors, Jesus tells us in this way, are simply strangers we do not allow to remain strangers. They are strangers whom we allow to genuinely belong in our own lives and world, aliens we make at home. In Jesus' parable the Samaritan makes a neighbor of a stranger while the religious leaders who are this man's neighbors treat him as an alien and make a stranger of him. The Samaritan makes of the world a place which is a bit safer and looks a bit different to the man who was mugged. Of course it takes preparation and practice to do such dramatically compassionate acts. The Amish practice forgiveness and mercy/hospitality everyday of their lives. In this regard at least, their hearts were readied in a significant way for the crisis that befell that awful day in Nickel Mines, PA. When Jesus/Matt tells the community not to worry about what they are to say on their own day of crisis he points to the Holy Spirit who will speak through them --- if, that is, their own hearts are readied as well.

My prayer this day is that each of us will look at the ways in which we fail to have mercy, fail to offer hospitality, fail to make a neighbor of the stranger, choose to remain aliens or to treat others thusly and act in some way to change those things. For God, having mercy and offering a place in his own life is the same thing. It is in loving that God mercifully does justice and makes the world a hospitable place. May we draw these realities a little closer together in our own minds, hearts, and lives as well --- and may our world be made more merciful, more hospitable, and more just in the process. I also pray especially for those Dominican Sisters in Iraq and Religious everywhere who have made it their own mission to make neighbors of the stranger and to break down the stereotypes and walls of bigotry (especially religious bigotry!) that keep their world broken by alienation and hostility. May our own efforts at hospitality be the Christian response and counter movement and dynamic to hostility. (cf also The Homeless Jesus)

Questions on Horarium and Writing a Rule

[[Dear Sr. Laurel, . . . I’m exploring the idea of living my life as a hermit, and am wondering if you can give me some direction. I’ve been reading through your blog posts, and am wondering if you have one that details your rule of life and what your day is like? I’m about 3 years from retiring and plan on moving to a very small house I own on the edge of a little town in. . .. I’m currently working with a spiritual director, and although she has a lot of experience in spiritual direction she does not have any experience of working with a hermit before. So any information you would be willing to share with me would be most welcome.]]

Hi there! There are several posts on horarium and several others on writing a Rule of Life. Please check the labels to the right for those posts. Remember that your horarium is your own and may not look like mine except in the most general ways. Similarly, while I once posted my own Rule here, I took it down for a couple of related reasons, 1) folks would write me and part of what they wrote used sections of my own Rule. I sometimes thought they weren't even aware of what they were doing in this, and 2) the actual writing of one's Rule of Life is an important piece of one's own formation and discernment as a hermit. In fact, I would say that apart from the theology I was educated in and, more recently, the inner work I do with my director (personal formation), the act of writing my Rule was the most important and powerfully formative experience of my life. I am grateful to God and to canon 603 for requiring it of me.

Yes, it took time and a good bit of muddling through, but I would want every would-be hermit to have such an experience and would never want to do anything which served as an obstacle to that whole process. (In fact, you may notice from other posts on this topic, that I have used this requirement to develop a process of discernment and formation for dioceses and their eremitical candidates; it allows a small team of formators, including one's own spiritual director, to accompany the candidate as she and God together negotiate a self-paced, Spirit-driven process which serves her needs in this and, should she move in the direction of petitioning for canonical standing, the needs of the diocese as well. The beauty of this process is that it grows directly from the requirements of c 603 itself as well as the candidate's own lived experience and forms the candidate in this normative vision of solitary eremitic life.) 

My suggestion to you, therefore, is that you get a copy of canon 603 (see labels, Canon 603 -- text of, to the right) underline the central or constitutive elements, and begin studying, reflecting, praying over, and writing about each of these little by little. Write about how you understand them now and then read more about each one. As you do this over time record how your understanding changes. As you begin to live them do something similar. Keep a notebook with all of these notes (divide them with tabs, for instance) and in a year or two you might be ready to write what one element or another looks like in your lived experience. (Other posts here have similar suggestions beginning with how God is working or does work in your life. Please look at those as well.) When you have done this with all of the elements you may have the nuts and bolts of your own Rule of Life. You would still need eventually to transform that into a written Rule that captures your own vision of c 603 life in the contemporary Church, and that includes a brief perspective on the history of the vocation, the charism as you understand it, and a vow formula, etc., but it will serve you well in creating the foundation of such a Rule.

Please reassure your director that she does not need to have directed hermits before. You are not one now anyway, and as you grow into one (to the extent you actually do this), your director will be able to help you to become more and more a contemplative and then to discern whether or not you are called to even deeper silence and solitude commensurate with eremitical life. She will know you, what is truest in you, and the way God calls you; as she comes to understand the constituent elements of the canon more deeply, she will also know whether or not those elements of c 603 speak to you in ways which allow you to be your truest self. She will know how God works in your life, and will grow in her own understanding of eremitical life in the process of directing you if you truly become a hermit. There is no reason she should not be able to direct you right along in this process, So again, please reassure her of all of this. Meanwhile if she or you have specific questions or concerns as you negotiate this journey over the next several years, please know you are both free to contact me with them.

I sincerely hope this is helpful.

A Contemplative Moment: The Silence of Solitude

 

The Silence of Solitude

"Solitude has nothing to do with existential neurosis, but is rather a creative search for the flame of love that burns in God's heart. . . .What occupies the center. . .is the existential solitude of God himself. This is what the human heart wants to absorb and this is where it wants to rest. The eremitic solitude is in no case a fruitless and spiritually empty isolation, a cold indifference toward people and the world, or a selfish passiveness. Just the opposite, it is a space of redemption, full of spiritual life and meant to accept and change any human distress, sorrow, or fear."

"Solitude, which paradoxically we happen to notice most intensely when we relate to another "thou", is a fertile soil in which grows our authentic life's calling of solitude by choice. Only one who is fully aware of the great value of human relationships, bonds, and connections can decide on giving them up in order to find them anew in an even fuller way. So, the choice of an eremitic calling should be made in freedom and humility. The person who is called to remain alone and makes his independent choice for solitude is, above all, a herald of the absolutely precious and meaningful love that is continuously going on in the depths of the triune God. . . .

To be a hermit means to relate to the mystery that is present in every human life and makes one feel small and powerless. To see with the eyes of faith the marvelous and eternal beauty of God means to be invited to come out of oneself and to give oneself up to God. . . .. In this sense, the eremitic calling is a consequence of meeting the original depths of the Trinity's solitude. . . . The reality of God is thus the original source of any solitude, an impenetrable abyss that calls to the profound depths of solitude of the human heart. Having heard that existential call of God's solitude, people respond to it by opening up the whole secret of their hearts."

Fr Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam: The Eremitic Life