Followup on the Foundational Ministry of the Eremitical Life

[[Hi Sister Laurel, you aren't saying that only hermits represent the heart of the Church are you? I hear you saying all Christians love others and their ministry conveys that. You also say that hermits represent the heart of the Church and witness to that largely without doing active ministry. I just wanted to be sure when you cite the idea of one body and many members, that you are not saying the hermit alone represents the heart of the Church. Thanks.]]

Hi there, yourself! Thank you for the question, and I apologize for not being clearer. I don't believe, and was not saying that only hermits reflect the heart of the Church. I believe every Christian reflects that heart and mediates that in their ministry. At the same time, I believe that in a really radical and dedicated way, the hermit represents the heart of the Church and does so apart from active ministry. Some represent the hands of the Body of Christ, some the mind or brain of the Body, for instance. All members reflect the heart of the Body, whether their ministry is scholarly or otherwise pastoral in any way whatsoever, and to some extent, then, they also represent the heart of the Body. 

Again, what I am saying is that hermits (and contemplatives who are not hermits) radically represent the heart of the Church even apart from any active ministry. It does not surprise me at all that the hermit's life spills over into some limited active ministry as do many other contemplatives', but what I am trying to draw attention to is the way journeying into the deepest recesses of one's own heart and to deeper union with God in Christ as a hermit is commissioned to do in the name of the Church, is itself ministerial and allows the hermit to represent that heart radically. I would go so far as to argue that hermits (and other contemplatives) stand in our world as the heart of the Church. They journey to the depths of their own hearts, where the authentic self stands with the God who would be Emmanuel, both beyond and in spite of all sin and death. This allows them to witness to the risen Christ in a way that is deeper or more radical than that of most Christian ministers and is the ground of all active ministry undertaken by any minister in the Church. Such a witness serves others; to undertake such a journey in the name of the Church for God's own sake and for the sake of all who would know (or be known by) God, is a profound act of faith and love that serves the Church qua Church. In other words, the Church itself needs the hermit (et. al.) to do this!

At the same time, everything in the Church, its proclamation, Scriptures, sacramental life, ministries of authority, and spiritual direction, for instance, supports and makes this journey possible. The journey the hermit makes into the depths of her own heart, her own existence, would not be possible without the Church and the God who enlivens her. It is not that the hermit discovers something the Church did not know and did not already proclaim in season and out. Even so, the hermit makes the journey that the Church's proclamation, support, guidance, and trust enable, anticipate, and, in the case of consecrated (canonical) hermits,  formally commissions her to make. (In a wonderful reference to the ecclesiality of this specific vocation, Ponam in Deserto Viam identifies the Church as "the maternal womb which generates this specific vocation.")** In essence, the Church professing and consecrating the canonical hermit (whether diocesan or a member of a religious institute) says to her, "Go and journey to the depths of solitary life with God. Rest in and reveal the Church's Sacred heart to the Body of Christ and to the entire world!" This, after all, is what it means for a hermit to glorify God (remember that "glorifying" here does not merely mean honoring, but rather revealing). 

The hermit is called to allow God to reveal Godself as Emmanuel. The difference between the hermit and most Christian ministers is that most ministers reveal a God who stands beside us in solidarity and loves us in and by feeding, teaching, clothing us, etc. The hermit gradually reveals the God who is Emmanuel in the very depths of our Selves -- even in our brokenness and the shadows of near-despair and death. Her vocation witnesses to this truth at every moment. Thus, the hermit's witness is more radical (not better or more worthy!!!), more radical (occurring at the roots), and necessary for, as well as implicit within, all other ministries occurring in the Church. The hermit relinquishes many other forms of ministry she might do very well, and she lets go of discrete gifts in the same way so that her life, in all of its marginalization and poverty, might proclaim the Gospel of a God who will allow nothing at all to separate us from his love. This is the hermit's experience, the experience that itself reveals and serves the Church's own life, proclamation, and ministry!

By the way, as a kind of postscript here, I suspect that many religious men and women who are no longer able to minister actively due to age or infirmity have discovered the same truth about their own vocations. Often, these Sisters and Brothers assume a role called the ministry of presence; sometimes it is called the ministry of prayer. After years and years of active ministry and prayer, I believe many know themselves (in Christ and the power of the Spirit) to be charged with being and revealing the heart of the Church to their Sisters and Brothers in community, as well as to others in the larger Church and world. These religious have entered the desert expanses of old age and/or infirmity, and their call there is similar to that of any eremite (desert dweller). My point could also be extended to include those who are chronically ill at almost any age. The difference is that religious have been professed, consecrated, and commissioned to live all of this in the name of the Church. This is the essence of an ecclesial vocation.       

 (PPS. November 21) In sharing and discussing all of this with my director today, she described something she does with Sisters in her own congregation who are no longer able to do active ministry and who suffer, because of course they want to serve. Sister Marietta described reminding them while sitting next to their beds (etc.) and pointing to the walls of their rooms, "These walls don't confine you! These walls don't confine you!! Your heart still roams the whole world, anytime, any day, anywhere!" 

Similarly, in affirming what she heard me saying about the writing and reflection I had done this past couple of weeks, Marietta recalled the Frederick Buechner quote I have used here in the past regarding vocation as "the place where our deep gladness meets the world's deep need." Thus, I was reminded that these Sisters of the Holy Family are in touch with their deepest selves and their life with God, that is their own deep gladness, and they are exploring a new way of imagining and meeting the world's deep need in the Risen Christ. This is precisely the vocation of the hermit and part of the reason one friend of mine (Rev Laurie Harrington) affirms the importance of the hermit being able to hear the cry of the world. One who does this, one whose heart is so attuned because of the journey she makes deep into her own heart and the heart of God and God's Church, is, at least essentially, a hermit.

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The Hermit's Way of Life in the Local Church, Ponam in Deserto Viam (Is 43:19), paragraph 13, page 20 Libreria Editrice Vaticana (2021)

Living the Questions: On the Foundational Ministry of the Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I have read your blog for years and I have considered becoming a hermit myself sometimes. There is one thing that keeps me from doing that. It has to do with active ministry and the fact that hermits don't do active ministry except in a limited way. I know you have written some about this, and about the ministry of the hermit, but I am not getting how it is that a person can be consecrated as a hermit when our world and church are so in need of active ministers. How can someone retire from "the world" when the Great Commandment requires us to love others as God loves us and we love ourselves?]] 

I have a good friend who sometimes supports a cloistered Carmel in his area. They live on the help of benefactors. I admit that I don't get this either. They are healthy, able-bodied women, and yet do no active ministry at all. I'm afraid the story with Mary and Martha and Jesus telling Martha that Mary has chosen the better part just sounds elitist to me, especially since Martha is working so that Jesus can be celebrated as a guest!! It doesn't help me to understand how someone (nuns or hermits) could sit at Jesus'feet while the world around her was so much in need of her active ministry. You can see why I have not gone ahead with my thought of becoming a hermit. Perhaps I will do it when I am older or infirm. I still need to understand how it is hermits minister if they are not doing active ministry. Can you explain this?]]

Thanks for your questions. They are timely. About three weeks ago, I did a presentation for an Independent Catholic Church on the eremitical vocation. The group was hosting its annual Ceilidh, with the overarching theme of "Commitment" and a secondary focus on ministry. What I tried to communicate was the nature of the fundamental eremitical commitment (to allow God to be Emmanuel and to allow ourselves in Christ to become transparent to God, that is, to become Emmanuel ourselves). I also tried to convey the idea of eremitical ministry, which has to do with standing in and even being part of the heart of the Church. Unfortunately, that was a pretty weak piece of what I presented so I have been thinking more about it, mainly in light of the recent writing I have done and the idea of becoming transparent to God. That is why your question is timely and I hope I will be able to say something that is helpful.

One of the criticisms sometimes made of contemporary religious men and women (though mainly women) who have decided not to wear habits, for instance, is that the Church needs religious, not "just" social workers. The idea behind this criticism is that when a religious woman looks the same as everyone else doing the same kind of work, her ministry is somehow reduced to being that of a secular social worker, teacher, or whatever. Women religious, of course, counter this criticism by pointing to the fact that the habit does not make them a religious. It is the person herself who shows what a religious woman is, and this can be done effectively without a religious habit. They do this because of all the virtues, but especially the love they bring to whatever ministry they do. This love and the ministry it informs and inspires is clear to those ministered to. Sisters are not doing this because of the high pay or similar benefits of the work they are engaged in, nor are their commitments grudging or half-hearted as might happen in a job that is not ministerial.

My sense is that this revelation of love is a foundational part of the Sisters' ministry, every bit as (or more) critical as any other dimension or element of what they do for others. A significant part of this also has to do with the reason a religious (or any Christian, really) does what they do. Yes, they do it because God in Christ calls and even commands them to do it, but they also do it because of who this love allows them to see the people they work with to be. When we feed the hungry, or clothe the naked, visit the prisoner, find shelter for the poor, or teach the ignorant, we do so because they are hungry, or naked, or imprisoned, or poor, etc. We do so in part because they are in need. Others (governments, social workers) can easily do all of this effectively without seeing the person as Christian ministers do. What is different in Christian ministry is that Christian ministers do not simply feed the hungry, etc., because the person is hungry, naked, imprisoned, ignorant, or poor. In fact, I would argue they do not even do so primarily because the person has such needs. Instead, their reason for doing what they do is deeper, more foundational. They do what they do because the person is precious to God and thus, to the minister. They do so because the person is of almost infinite value and dignity no matter their joblessness, homelessness, criminality, statuslessness, or whatever else marginalizes them, and because loving them as God loves them and treating them as the gift to the world they are called and have the potential to be, affirms and feeds, sets free and secures them, more foundationally than anything else can.

The canonical hermit (also a religious) is called to this specific and foundational dimension of Christian ministry even more radically than apostolic religious women and men. I say that because hermits' lives witness to who we are in God and because of God's love; no active ministry validates the hermit's life. A hermit lives her life in solitude with God for the sake of others, including all Christian ministers, servants, and shepherds, precisely to make clear the foundational truth all apostolic ministry is based on, namely, that every person is made for and called to union with God, and thus, that every person carries within themselves the spark of divinity and a unique capacity to image God, to be entirely transparent to God in our world. 

Everything in the hermit life marginalizes the hermit in ways intended to help her/him witness to this foundational truth, as no law, dogma, or doctrine can ever do. In the risen Christ, the hidden journey the hermit makes in and to the silence of solitude and its ever-deeper union with God, reveals the double reality that stands at the heart of every single life, deeper than any limitation, brokenness, doubt, or distortion, namely, authentic humanity and the living God. In the hermit, marginalization serves the truth that in the risen Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit, nothing at all can separate us from the love of God. In this way, the hermit witnesses to the nature and heart of the Church as it mediates the presence within our world of the God we know as Emmanuel and the way to the fullness of life that also represents Emmanuel.

That is what I have been writing about here for the past months and weeks, especially when I talk about the person as question seeking and anticipating the only sufficient answer, who is God. This was Thomas Merton's point as well. A friend sent me a copy of a page last night from a book on prayer she was reading. One line from a quote on that page struck me as the story of my own life seeking God and living as a hermit, viz.: [[I enter [my prayer space, prayer] as a suppliant and leave as a witness.]] I am especially reminded that the vocation to assiduous prayer and penance in the silence of solitude assumed by the hermit has always been seen as one of white martyrdom, and martyrdom is, most fundamentally, about witnessing. The word means witness! While hermits are not usually called to red martyrdom, they are called to journey to the depths of human existence where estrangement from God and union with God exist "side by side" so to speak. This is why I speak of living the questions most profoundly, and journeying into the shadow of death and despair or near-despair, where those questions are posed most radically, and where God and the truest Self exist in union with One another.

To summarize, the Body of Christ has many members with different functions. Hermits represent the heart of the Church, the reality upon which all active ministry is built and in which it is rooted. While this is not ministerial in the way most folks are used to thinking about or seeing ministry, the hermit's journey is itself profoundly ministerial. It is a witness to God as the ultimate source of all meaningful life and an affirmation of the value and call of every life to become Emmanuel and allow God to be the one he wills to be, no matter the degree of marginalization or estrangement marking stages or dimensions of the person's life. While hermits do not engage in much active ministry, they remind all ministers of the truth, the incredibly Good News that undergirds, motivates, and informs all genuinely Christian ministry. This, by the way, is what the story of Mary, Martha, and Jesus in the Gospel of Luke (the end of chapter 10) actually illustrates. The Greek (κοινη) text does not say Mary chose the better part, but rather that Mary chose the uniquely needful or necessary part that was identified as good. 

Living the Questions: Sources of my own Sense of this Vocation

[[ Sister Laurel, I have never thought about myself as question and God as answer, but it makes sense to me. That's true when we think of people as seeking God. It is true when we think of them lacking something that calls for a particular fulfilling thing too. Can you say more about this and maybe where it comes from in your own experience? Thank you.]]

Thanks for your questions. I would like to say more about human beings as question and God as answer in light of my last post, so I will try to answer your questions as I do that. I hope that's okay. When I finished the piece on Living the Questions, there were a few points I had not developed regarding the relation of question to answer, and I was afraid perhaps my piece was too negative as a result. In particular, I was afraid I had not done justice to the way a question somehow reflects a deep awareness of the answer and anticipates it, even if this anticipation is still inchoate and relatively inarticulate. I think this is true even when we are looking at little ones whose every word is a question, "WHY?", and whose every question represents a quest for (and experience of) personal transcendence. In every "why?" a little one asks (or demands!), we can recognize that they have an inchoate sense of the need for and existence of meaning, relatedness, completeness and incompleteness, reasonableness, and cause and effect. All of these are called for and, to some extent, presupposed by the question, "WHY?"

In transposing my reflection from the little one asking a still-inchoate "why?" to the human being posing the question of themselves and therefore, of God, it is important to see that one seeks God because in some way one already knows God. When we say we are made for God, we point to both our lack and also to a "possession" (to something we have or know) that drives the direction of and provides courage for our seeking. The direction and courage of our seeking God (and the deepest truth of ourselves) will grow over time as our faith grows and we gradually become people of prayer. 

(I know I have just thrown two new words into the mix here. Let me clarify those: Most fundamentally, faith is about trust and in terms of this specific discussion, faith has to do with trust (a way of knowing and being known that both depends upon and leads to openness and therefore, to even greater being known and knowing) that there is an answer to the profound question of being and meaning we ourselves are. Even more, it leads to a growing sense that this answer gives us life and meaning that is beyond this life's limitations and imaginings. Prayer really is about posing the question we are through all of life's exigencies, joys, sufferings, and struggles in a way that trusts, and so, is open to the answer God is and who God makes of us.) We approach this prayer as we ask God our own painful, "Why's?" for instance. We know this kind of prayer as we pour our hearts out to God, and so, as we simply come to stand securely as our truest selves in God's presence.

Personal Sources:

There are two sources for my work here. The first is mainly intellectual and academic. When I was an undergraduate beginning theological studies, I was introduced to the German notion of question. It was explained that a question meant both the lack of something that made the question necessary, and the presence of something that made the question possible. Questions were impossible unless both conditions were met. I was fascinated by this analysis/definition. In my senior year I was assigned Paul Tillich's Systematic Theology, vol 1-3 for my senior majors' project. There, I was introduced to Tillich's "method of correlation," where (to simplify things significantly) philosophy poses the questions of being and meaning, and Theology articulates the answer (that God is). 

Later (during MA work), I studied the work of Gerhard Ebeling and Ernst Fuchs and was introduced to the idea of "theological linguistics" and the idea of human beings as "language events". (John Searle's work on performative language was also important here.) At the same time, I was studying Scripture (especially Paul!), which underscored all of this with Jesus as the revelation (articulation in space and time) of the truly human and the truly divine --- the one in whom the Word is made flesh and God is allowed to be Emmanuel in an exhaustive way. During doctoral work, I returned to Paul Tillich's ST and to a more concentrated reading of the doctoral dissertation written by my undergraduate and Master's professor, John C Dwyer (Tubingen): Paul Tillich's Theology of the Cross. Everything I have done since remains tied to and grounded in these theological roots.

The second and more important source of my reflections on the human person as a question and God as the corresponding and only sufficient answer, the one for whom we are made, is personal or existential. Various events in my childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, and adulthood raised the questions of life and death, meaning and meaninglessness, and the possibility and nature of God, with a particular intensity and seriousness. I was seeking God before I knew there was a God to seek! Later, that quest became more focused when, at 14 or 15, I attended my first Mass and had an experience of the Catholic Church as the place where every need (emotional, intellectual, aesthetic, spiritual, etc) could be met! I began instruction that week, was later baptized a Catholic, and then entered the Franciscans when I could. 

Unfortunately, I developed an adult-onset seizure disorder (epilepsy) and had to leave the Franciscans. This disorder eventually proved to be medically and surgically intractable, and left me disabled. Additionally, the epilepsy co-existed with a chronic pain problem (Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, once called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy). In all of this, my own questions led me to understand myself as question, and over time, I understood even more clearly or explicitly that God was the answer I sought, needed, and was made for. In @1984 or 1985, I became a hermit doing some limited writing (mainly in Review for Religious)**, and then, when the diocese was (finally!) open to professing someone under c 603, I became a diocesan (canonical solitary) hermit for the Diocese of Oakland and was perpetually professed and consecrated in 2007. 

Throughout much of this time (from 1983 onwards), the work I have done with my spiritual director has supported, encouraged, and empowered this journey, particularly over the past decade or so. I owe her more thanks than I can say. The academic theology I did as a student was tailored to my personal needs in some ways (I can't thank John Dwyer enough for teaching me Paul's Theology of the Cross, assigning me Paul Tillich in my senior year, and introducing me to the work of Ebeling and Fuchs during my MA studies!!). I say this because some of this was anticipated by writing (poetry and journaling) I did as an adolescent and young adult when, at one point, I came to describe myself as a scream of anguish. I understood at that time that I needed to better understand and articulate what that was all about. More, I knew I was (or was made to be!) a good deal more than that! All of this and more led me to understand the human person not only as a question presupposing and seeking a sufficient answer, but as an inarticulate cry requiring and seeking greater and greater meaningful articulation as a word or language event. The influence of Jesus as the Word made flesh during this early period was undeniable, yet still obscure.

Meanwhile, especially since @ 2007, the time I have spent living and reflecting on c 603 and the nature of the solitary eremitic vocation, coupled with my work with c  603 candidates, and the experience I had at the beginning of last Lent, has drawn all of this and more, together into something of a summary of my own theological-spiritual journey. Other elements of this journey include my deepening love for John of the Cross, my longstanding respect for the writing of Ruth Burrows on Prayer and (more recently, her anthropology and mystical theology -- which I completely resonate with***), the reflections of Carmelites more generally, the friendship and sharing of diocesan hermits like Sisters Anunziata, CH and Rachel Denton, Er Dio, and the writing of various Camaldolese (cf The Privilege of Love) and Cistercian writers, not least, of course, Thomas Merton!! It has been a difficult journey, sometimes fairly dark and often obscure, but above all, it has been a journey sustained by love and illuminated by growing or emerging hope.****

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** This was an important time, and three of the articles I wrote had to do with prayer as something we do for God's own sake (e.g., Prayer, Maintaining a Human Perspective, and That God Might be Father) and Chronic Illness and Disability as Vocation and potentially, an eremitical vocation: (Eremitism: Call to the Chronically Ill and Disabled, 1989).

*** I have to call this providential, but I just discovered that exactly 2 years ago today, Ruth Burrows (Sister Rachel Gregory, OCD) died at the age of 100. She had been a Carmelite nun for 82 years! That said, it would be hard not to consider her role in guiding my reading and prayer, and God's place in encouraging me to consciously note my indebtedness to her on this day of all days!!

**** Ponam in deserto Viam calls the c 603 hermit a "sentinel of hope" (paragraph 13, p 20)

Living the Questions: Journeying into the Shadows of Death, Despair, and Meaninglessness

[[Sister Laurel, in your piece on Hiddenness and witnessing to the journey to deeper union with God, you quoted Merton on journeying in the desert area of the human heart. I wonder if you could say more about that? I was especially interested in Merton's description that he has been called to explore places most people were not able to visit except in the company of one's psychologist, and that they studiously avoid except in their nightmares. Is this the way you understand your vocation? Can you say more about this? I also wondered what Merton meant by saying that one cannot truly know hope unless one has found out how like despair hope is. Do you understand that?]]

These are particularly good questions, and I appreciate you asking them. Merton's quote here is dense and incredibly significant. It corresponds to the inner journey made by many contemplatives and hermits, and yes, I think I can explain some dimensions of it based on my own experience. Let me quote the entire passage and then comment on it in terms of two things: 1) becoming Emmanuel (God with Us) as we allow God to be Emmanuel, and 2) learning to be one who "lives the questions". These are two of the ways I understand the nature of eremitical life. Merton's passage reads:

When I first became a monk, yes, I was more sure of  'answers'. But as I grow old in the monastic life and advance further into solitude, I become aware that I have only begun to seek the questions. And what are the questions? Can man make sense out of his existence? Can man honestly give his life meaning merely by adopting a certain set of explanations which pretend to tell him why the world began and where it will end, why there is evil and what is necessary for a good life? My brother, perhaps in my solitude I have become as it were an explorer for you, a searcher in realms which you are not able to visit --- except perhaps in the company of your psychologist. I have been summoned to explore a desert area of man's heart in which explanations no longer suffice, and in which one learns that only experience counts. An arid, rocky, dark land of the soul, sometimes illuminated by strange fires which men fear and peopled by specters which men studiously avoid except in their nightmares. And in this area, I have learned that one cannot truly know hope unless he has found out how like despair hope is.

Sinful human beings are profoundly (existentially) alone and threatened by death and meaninglessness. Moreover, because of sin, we also experience estrangement from God even when personal sin is not a particular problem. (We experience this estrangement as a yearning for both being and meaning. This means we are hungry for and seek an ever fuller existence that is full of value and purpose.) We are taught that our lives are meaningful and precious, that we are made in the image of God, and so, that we are called to union with God. We are taught by Scripture (cf. Romans 8:26ff) that nothing at all can separate us from the love of God, and that the hope we are called to live is rooted in the Christ Event and the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. Every religion or theology class we may take or have taken throughout our lives, every homily we hear, every conversation we may have with spiritual directors, every book or article on the Gospel we have read, serves in some way to affirm the truth that God is the ground and source of our lives and that ultimately, we cannot be separated from him. This means God is the ground and source of every potentiality, every talent, and gift we have. Further, God transcends any threat to being or meaning we might experience. All of this also means that the anxiety associated with the fact that our lives are marked and marred by finitude and sin (separation from God as ground and source of being and meaning), though these are real and a source of suffering, can be transformed into the peace of God whenever God is allowed to be Emmanuel.

The fact that we are made by and for God also means that without God, we are incomplete. The ways sin, death, and meaninglessness threaten us are reminders of both our need and hunger for the God who completes and makes us whole and wholly or exhaustively alive. All of the ways we seek to give our lives purpose, fulfill them, seek meaning, and create representations of and reflections on these things testify both to what we are made for and what we yet lack. As human beings in search of a more exhaustive being and meaning, that is, as people seeking fullness of life in, with, and through God, we are like questions in search (and in need) of a completing and illuminating answer. Ironically, only once a question is paired with its truest answer can we truly see the full sense, depths, and significance of the question. Only when the answer is provided do we have a complete articulation of the truth. Similarly, it is only when we begin to have a sense of the answer that we find the courage to pose the question as radically as we really need and are called to do. And this is especially true with the question that we each are and the answer God represents.

It is in our hearts that we hear and struggle with the questions that are part of our being human and made for God. It is in the desert of the human heart that we know the questions that excite and propel us further towards transcendence and those that agonize us with apparent absurdity, loss, limitation, disappointment, contradiction, and crisis. It is in the human heart that we sin against others and, in the process, betray ourselves, those others, and our God as well. Here we make ourselves not just a question, but questionable. Here we battle with demons and seek out angels; here we embrace, then reject idols, and seek the real God even more intensely and profoundly. And in all of this struggle, seeking, and questioning, it is in the human heart that we pose the question of the truth of ourselves and of God, and eventually, that we can discover the union that exists deeper than any brokenness, distortion, or estrangement we might also know or have known.

Thomas Merton knew all of this very well, and as he journeyed more deeply into solitude, he did as every hermit is called to do and began to explore the desert of his own heart. Merton understood that most folks do not make this same journey as consistently or as profoundly as a monk or hermit is called to do. Such a journey is entirely too demanding, too painful, and in any case, everyday life and responsibilities prevent it. This is part of the reason eremitical vocations are seen as second-half-of-life vocations. They arise out of deeper questioning and seeking, out of a more profound posing of the question of self in conjunction with a relatively mature sense of the answer that (who) is God. Eremitism is embraced as a full-time commitment to seek and receive or be received by God, which also necessarily means posing the question of one's own existence as profoundly as one can while remaining open to the answer**. The question of God is not an abstract one. It is a deeply personal question requiring our entire commitment and the exploration of a whole life's experience. This is what canon 603 refers to as a life of assiduous prayer and penance. We approach this question existentially, understanding that the answer is something we must also come to know experientially. Dogma and doctrine, no matter how true and important they are, are not the answer our existence ultimately requires. Only God Godself is the true answer.

I believe that my vocation is about letting God love me as exhaustively as he wills to do. This means opening myself to and allowing God to be Emmanuel in the same way Jesus did, and doing so in Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit. I believe another way of saying this and describing the self-emptying this requires is to define eremitical life as one of living the questions as deeply and exhaustively as I can. In my own experience, this involves journeying into the shadows of meaninglessness, near-despair, and death. Only the Holy Spirit, I believe, gives a person the power (courage) to make such a journey. Thus, Merton speaks of nightmares, or specters, that persons studiously avoid except, perhaps, when working with their psychologist (I would add "with one's spiritual director" here). To pose the question of oneself in all of the ways that question is raised throughout one's life, and to do so ever more profoundly, prepares us to receive God (or, more truly, to be received by God) as the answer. For that reason, it prepares us to receive the ground and source of all hope as well. I believe this is what Merton meant by saying how like despair hope really is. 

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** Here I am thinking of Jesus’ cry of abandonment on the cross. In this moment, Jesus posed the question he was as deeply as possible and remained open to allowing God to be the answer that He would be. On the cross of Christ, the human question (which is also the question of God!) is posed as radically as we will ever see it posed. At that moment, Jesus stood at the doorway of death, despair, and meaninglessness, and was open to God as the only adequate and completing answer. This openness is not assured in most of us, and we can struggle to "achieve" or allow it as our inner journey into the shadows and darkness deepens, but it is this openness or "obedience" that was key to (God's) transforming the cross into the very center of redemptive and revelatory history. I would not be surprised if Thomas Merton had been reflecting on the same event as well as his own profound experiences in solitude as he wrote what he did on the relation and likeness of despair and hope.

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I will need to reflect on and address this in further posts, but Merton's quotation, and my own understanding of the reason for this contemplative vocation to "live the questions," in the very heart of the Church is precisely so that the experience of God's sustaining love is witnessed to as the assured answer to the human question each of us is. Dogma and Doctrine proclaim this in many ways. The Scriptures witness to and proclaim this truth in the proclamation of a crucified Jesus' resurrection, and perhaps most powerfully in Paul's affirmation in Romans 8:31-39. Merton makes the point that sometimes this is simply not enough for those seeking being and meaning. Experience is necessary. I would also point out that the hermit makes this journey for the sake of others as well as herself, first for God's sake, then for the Church whose task is the mediation of this reality (Emmanuel) to the world, and finally, for the sake of all those whose existential questions require encouragement and, above all, a source of hope.

Habits and Ordinary Clothing as Aids to Living One's Vocation

[[Hi Sister Laurel, because of what you wrote about habits and titles pointing to Mystery, I wondered if wearing a habit helps you live your vocation. I remember you once rejected the idea that wearing a habit allowed you to pray better (that was a long time ago), so I wondered too if that has changed for you.]]

Wow! So you have read this blog for a very long time!! First, thanks for that! It is really gratifying. Yes, wearing a habit helps me live my vocation, and so does wearing lay clothes or "civvies". Both are reminders of something central, so both serve in their own way. With regard to wearing a habit, I am reminded of several things: religious poverty is the most common association, I think, along with one's consecration to an ecclesial vocation. It is this latter association that wearing a habit makes most strongly for me. That is especially the case when I am attending liturgy. There I belong most completely and witness to something that belongs to the Church as something challenging and empowering to the others. Because the habit (including the cowl) signals a second consecration building on and somehow going beyond the original consecration of baptism, it can call on others to live their baptismal consecrations, and it can do so without any sense of elitism. Moreover, it says to the Church that God is at work in the Church in hidden and powerful ways, and encourages others to trust in the truth of the resurrection and the power of prayer.

When I wear my habit outside the hermitage or liturgy, my sense of its witness value is somewhat different. Yes, it calls people to recognize the reality of the Church and the Kingdom of God as a countercultural reality existing in their midst. (It calls me to remember my commitment to and representation of these things as well!) It also signals something beyond that, something puzzling and provocative. I think it points to the reality of Mystery that stands at the heart, and as the ground and source of everything. It points to God and, of course, to the idea of committing one's whole self to that God. It also reminds me of history and the long tradition of eremitical and religious life in which I stand. This is part of the countercultural nature of the vocation, and part of its eschatological nature as well, because while locating me within a current of history it also locates me within currents of transcendence and reminds me to see my immediate surroundings in light of something larger and more eternal. The habit has been modernized, but in this way it has not lost its historical resonances.

The challenge of wearing a habit outside the immediate Church community is twofold: one represents the Church and Kingdom to which the Church points in a proleptic way, while the other represents authentic humanity. Both of these are about commitments to and with God; they are marked by compassion, love, intelligence, appreciation, appropriate seriousness, joy, generosity, and a healthy sense of humor. (I'm sure these qualities could be extended much further, but you get the idea.) Because it represents an ecclesial vocation, the habit marks one out not only as a servant of Jesus Christ and the God/Kingdom he revealed, but as one who lives this call as commissioned to do so in the name of the Church.

So, what about wearing ordinary clothing or "civvies"? These also help me to live my vocation, and I think they help those who know me to live their own as well. Certainly I hope so. For me "civvies" reminds me of the ordinariness of my life and vocation. It is not elitist, not cut off from others in the name of some unhealthy isolation (eremitical solitude is a unique form of community or, as Pope Leo recently wrote citing Evagrius Ponticus, solidarity). It is certainly a somewhat unusual vocation when measured numerically, but when it is looked at in terms of the various situations that marginalize people everyday of their lives (poverty, trauma, chronic illness and disability, inability to live their potential for various reasons, etc, etc.), or when it is looked at in terms of the existential solitude marking every person's life whether they are socially marginalized or not, eremitism is a vocation that captures most vividly the dynamics of human existence.

When I wear civvies, I am most strongly reminded of this dimension of my life. (Ironically, I am sometimes struck by a sense of existential solitude or even of "not belonging" when I am wearing ordinary clothes.) At the same time, ordinary clothing can be helpful in signaling to others the dignity and importance of their own baptismal consecration and vocation. Vatican II brought into fresh perspective the insight that it is the sacrament of baptism that is the source and ground of every other vocation in the Church. It is the most important and absolutely essential sacrament. Orders is not. Religious consecration is not. Both of these build on (and so are given their inherent dignity) by the sacrament of baptism. It is the sacrament of baptism that calls us to and helps empower lives of authentic humanity. While I do not deny the importance and beauty of Orders or religious Consecration, it is important that I witness to the extraordinary ordinariness of a life committed to allowing God to be Emmanuel and (in Christ) to becoming Emmanuel myself. The use of ordinary clothes also does this.

I think that leaves the question of prayer. I continue to say that I do not pray better in a habit. Wearing a habit does not help me pray better. I am completely comfortable in a habit, of course! But that is because I know who I am and who I am called to become. I know in whose name I have been called by God to live my life and part of that call includes the right (and responsibility!!!) to wear a religious habit. Do I live this vocation perfectly? Of course not! But that does not make me a hypocrite!!** It simply makes me who I am as I live what I have been called to live in the name of the Church.

**Several times now, I have heard it described by folks who wore a habit for a while while in "formation" with a newly-formed, unofficial, and non-canonical group, and who claim they stopped doing so because they felt like hypocrites or frauds. People approaching them had questions they could not answer and expectations they could not meet. For instance, people expected they were religious who had been formed and commissioned by the Church to live religious life in her name, not someone who adopted the habit without real preparation or authorization, and, of course, they were not such people. No wonder they felt like hypocrites!!! One person writes about "standing out" in this way and, in part, criticizes every diocesan hermit's wearing habits on this basis. 

These people's experiences do not mean, however, that everyone wearing a habit is elitist or some kind of hypocrite. By the time a religious (including diocesan hermits), reaches perpetual profession and consecration, they know who they are in terms of this vocation. When authorized by the Church, they wear the habit comfortably though not complacently as a reflection of the truth of their identity in the Church, in the congregational or eremitic tradition in which they stand, and in God. It is a sign of service and availability (yes, even diocesan hermits are available to others); it is neither a sign that they are better Christians than others, nor that they are perfect. Still, it does remind them of what they are commissioned to be and aspire to, and, as noted in other posts, the profound Mystery that stands at the heart of both their being and calling.

Reflecting on an Experience of No Kings Day

Yesterday, I attended a small but effective "No Kings" event in my town. There was a very much larger rally in the next town over (10,000 people), but Sister Marietta and I had lunch here at Stillsong first and then walked over to the event occurring at the town's major intersection not far from here, where we joined with others to wave signs, beat drums, clap, thank those in cars waving and honking as they moved past us, and cheer for our country and those supporting our constitution. We were few in number, but passionate and peaceful in witnessing to our love for the US and our concern for the well-being of our democracy and all it brings to our world.

As we came to leave my place, Marietta stopped and quietly and clearly stated (prayed) our intentions to support the Nation and its values. In this way, we made even more concrete why we were going to this small protest and why we were joining our own minds, hearts, and bodies with those of other Americans throughout the country. These values and our participation were every bit as sacred as daily prayer or liturgy, and every bit as much a way of participating in the coming of God's Reign as the other things the consecration of our lives requires and empowers. Stopping to affirm our intention in this quiet, matter-of-fact way before stepping out of the door was powerful and helped set the tone of our participation. It remained with me throughout the afternoon.

The gathering was both intimate, peaceful, and celebratory. There were some great signs, one of the best being one that began, "I'll show you my civility if you show me yours . . ." Most were some variation of "No Kings." There were parents and children, people with disabilities, young and old, and even a large and very affectionate dog with us. You name it. Generally, we cheered and waved to (and often with) those who came past our corner. Lots of folks responded with smiles, cheers, honking, thumbs up affirmations,  and a few with the ASL sign 🤟 for love or I love you. One young woman stood up through the sunroof of the car she was in and waved her own sign and cheered with us. Others were silent, studiously avoided looking at us face to face, and a few used a rigid, solitary middle finger to tell us what they thought of what we were doing. One driver yelled out, "F__k y'all!" but in the main, people who disagreed with or disliked what we were doing were simply silent and moved past without a sign of actual animosity.

Until, that is, one man walked across the small park behind us and directly into our midst. He challenged us in a sentence I cannot now recall, and then, just inches from a number of us, he leaned close and continued to rage, "This is not Berkeley!" You're scum!! You should (or perhaps, "I hope you) all burn in hell!' We were stunned. Marietta felt chills and later sadly noted the shocking ugliness of the rant and grieved that any human being should speak that way to other human beings. I was bewildered by the man's anger and his decision to come all the way across the small park to confront us specifically. (Neither Marietta nor I were dressed differently from anyone else in the group, though we both wore small crosses and rings, so religious garb was not part of drawing his attention. It may, however, have been part of the reason he tailored his words regarding hell as he did.) Still, what we were doing was quintessentially American and positive. It created community and strengthened solidarity with other citizens and non-citizens alike. Therefore, what I was even more stunned by was the fact that this man was apparently an immigrant who had come here from Russia or some linguistically related, Slavic country, who was raging about the exercise of our constitutional rights and joy at being American. The irony was striking.

I woke up this morning with this man in my thoughts and prayers, along with the others I had spent time with yesterday afternoon. I was still struggling to make sense of the man's anger and verbal aggression. And, of course, I could not. In some ways, I felt grateful for the brief encounter the man offered because of the way it helped crystallize the brutality, ugliness, and inhumanity the No Kings movement, among others, is struggling against. I am not unfamiliar with evil as it consumes the hearts and minds of people and leaves them feeling hopeless, helpless, and profoundly angry in its wake. I think this is what I was seeing yesterday and part of the inhumanity "No Kings" stands against as it affirms the importance of maintaining America as a "shining democratic (not theocratic!) light on the hill".

America is not the Kingdom of God, nor is it meant to be, much less is it meant to supplant that. However, it is meant to participate in and witness in its own unique way to the gradual and universally inclusive coming of that reign. The democratic experiment in which we participate every day of our lives contributes uniquely here, but only if it does not succumb to the idolatry that seeks to set up a theocracy or enlists the energies of those who believe others are scum and should be excluded from this democracy and even (smugly, gratefully, and self-righteously) consigned to hell! Everyone on that corner yesterday was shocked by and concerned for the man who railed at and against us. I believe we all recognized the terrible bondage to which he was and is captive. And, of course, I know at least some of us prayed for him. Rooted in the love of God we also celebrated yesterday, we will continue to pray for him as we do what we can to dissent from and protest against the fear-inspiring, inhuman, and alienating perversions currently being done in the name of the United States and a Nationalism some mistakenly call "Christian". This was the intention Marietta and I set out with yesterday, and the intention I pray we all find the continuing courage to live into and represent to the world.

Another look at Pope Leo's Address to Hermits

[[Hi Sister! I heard an online hermit [name omitted] complaining that Pope Leo "left out" the "traditional historic" hermit from his recent address to hermits in Italy. She felt it was divisive and argued that c 603 hermits wearing habits and styling themselves as Sister or Brother was about mimicking genuine religious and was basically false. She also wondered if the traditional, historic hermits were no longer welcome in the Church, especially since there is such an emphasis on diocesan hermit (sic) being social when the others were not. She thought not still being in the Church was a good thing for these reasons.  On another note, I was happy to see she spoke of everyone being called to union with God, but I was disappointed to hear her suggesting there was no difference in their vocations really. I don't think she picked up on Pope Leo's reference to diocesan hermits as exemplars of what is a universal calling. Oh, she also made a point of the fact that traditional historic hermits were not limited to a single diocese, but were hermits in or of the universal Church. I think you have written about this before, haven't you? (I couldn't locate the post myself.)]]

Thanks for your email! All of these topics, except the complaint against Pope Leo, "leaving out" the "traditional historic" hermit, are things I have heard or read over the years from the person you mentioned. It is the questions that I want to deal with here, however, not their source. The complaint against Pope Leo fails to appreciate the brevity and context of his address, namely, he was making his comments to diocesan hermits who had travelled to Rome for the Jubilee. I know this because I was invited to attend with (perhaps) some small (read tiny!!) chance to speak with Pope Leo while I was there. Unfortunately, I could not attend. If one is speaking to diocesan hermits about the significance of their vocation, and the address is to be a brief one, one's comments will necessarily be limited and focused as Pope Leo's were, to diocesan hermits!! (Still, as I note below, Leo did recognize the diocesan hermit's necessary engagement with the stream of history, so that must not be missed or dismissed.)

I thought Pope Leo's comments were amazing in the way they touched on the really central aspects of the c 603 vocation. Beginning with Jesus' conversation with the Samaritan woman, Leo outlined the fundamental vocation everyone has to worship God in Spirit and truth. That is incredibly important and absolutely foundational for understanding the nature of eremitical life and the way it is an exemplar for every person's fundamental vocation. It was a wonderful beginning that set the stage for hearing everything else Leo spoke of and understanding the paradoxical nature of a vocation to the silence of solitude. Leo also touched on the ecclesial nature of the vocation, especially its solidarity with others (per the great quote from Evagrius Ponticus) and its open relationship with the ecclesial body and body of history. Leo captured the dialogical nature of this vocation 1) with God and one's deepest Self in the secret sanctuary of the heart, 2) with others and all of creation, and 3) with the Church itself and the eremitical tradition, which the c 603 hermit embodies.  

It is interesting (though saddening) to me that the hermit you mentioned felt it was a good thing to leave the Church in light of the Pope's comments on solidarity (the deeply social nature of hermits). This solidarity is an expression of the vocation's ecclesiality and is an essential element of the eremitical vocation as the Catholic Church understands it. To reject it and the paradoxical way the elements of c 603 must be understood is perhaps to admit one is not really a hermit, but rather, remains simply a pious loner. The essential nature of eremitical life, as Pope Leo outlined it, may surprise some, but it is exactly the profoundly and canonically ecclesial vocation c 603 outlines and codifies. In any case, c 603 does not do away with non-canonical or lay hermits, nor does it push them out of the Church. This is a kind of destructive all-or-nothing way of thinking that lacks nuance and is invalid. Much of what Pope Leo said applies to non-canonical hermits as well. But again, in his brief address, he was speaking to an assembly of c 603 hermits called and commissioned to be exemplars of the solitary eremitical vocation and the universal call to union with God. He was not excluding anyone.

As I have written before (you were correct), the diocesan hermit is a hermit in and for the universal Church, though she especially serves her local diocesan Church. S/he lives eremitic life in the name of the Universal Church and has been granted and accepted the rights and obligations associated with that place in the Church's life. However, her immediate legitimate superior is the Bishop of the diocese where she resides and in whose hands she is professed. (Delegates serve as quasi-superiors on the Bishop's and the diocese's behalf.) This is an issue of subsidiarity and an example of the effective exercise of the ministry of authority. The Church always administers or exercises such things at the most local level possible. This respects the genuinely dialogical and loving character of such ministry; after all, superiors need to know and genuinely love those with and for whom authority is exercised. They need to know the local Church in which such persons are embedded and serve. I will try to locate the post you were thinking of and link it below.

Thanks again for your outline of the online comments. They were especially helpful in providing an opportunity to look again at Pope Leo's address and consider how truly complete and well-ordered his comments therein were. It is wonderful to hear the way these resonate with my own lived and reflected experience of c 603 life, and that of others I am in contact with. I especially loved the way he begins with Scripture, draws a picture of the very core of the vocation in speaking about the human heart where worship occurs, and then draws from significant representatives of the desert tradition, in this case, from Evagrius Ponticus. What Pope Leo did in this brief address was to also capture the dialogical nature of the eremitic life in regard to its contemporary manifestation and its historical origins and foundation. He essentially affirmed that this relatively new c 603 life is authentically eremitic and reflects the desert tradition with integrity, even when that surprises people and calls for reflection and explanation. 

Moreover, Leo made very clear the way this vocation is lived for others, and serves the Church it reflects. This service is not about an occasional or limited foray into active ministry, though hermits may engage this way. Neither is it about an occasional act of charity one may do for someone who comes to one's door seeking a word, though hermits will surely do this as well. Instead, it is the service flowing from the worship occurring in the inviolable tabernacle of the hermit's heart at every moment of the hermit's life as she grows more and more transparent to God and the love and truth God is. In this way, the hermit mediates God/love/truth in and to a world badly in need. Pope Leo also addressed this point beautifully. Yes. This was truly a very fine address and a gift of God to the Church and world for the sake of this vocation and those called to live it! Or, maybe better, I should have said this was a gift of God to this vocation and those who live it for the sake of God, the Church, and God's entire creation!

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I just realized I did not address your comment regarding c 603 hermits "mimicking religious". I have addressed this before, especially on the basis of comments made in the Handbook on Canons 573-746. For the dedicated post I put up on this topic 5 years ago, please see: Are C 603 Hermits Religious?

Diocesan Hermits and Subsidiarity (This linked post was written about six years ago and can also be found under the tag, "subsidiarity".)

Pope Leo's Jubilee Year Address to Hermits (For the post with the entire address)

Witnessing to Hiddenness, Both Inner and External Forms

[[Hi Sister Laurel, so when the catechism speaks of hermits being hidden from the eyes of men, are you saying this is not about being anonymous, or not wearing a habit, or not using the title Sister or Brother, for example? What I hear you saying is that eremitical hiddenness is about the inner and ordinary nature of the hermit's journey to deeper union with God. No one can look in at this journey; it is always a hidden part of a human being's life. I wonder, though, if there isn't some degree of external hiddenness from others. Are you saying that there is no hiddenness except for the inner journey the hermit makes to God?]]

Great question!! Important too, since the Catechism of the Catholic Church refers to the hermit's life being hidden from the eyes of men, not just the hermit's work or ministry. Yes, you have pretty well captured what I am saying. Still, let's look at the statement of the Catechism re hermits and see what it actually says, especially in paragraph 921: [[[Hermits] manifest to everyone the interior aspect of the mystery of the Church, that is, personal intimacy with Christ. Hidden from the eyes of men, the life of the hermit is a silent preaching of the Lord, to whom he has surrendered his life simply because he is everything to him. Here is a particular call to find in the desert, in the thick of spiritual battle, the glory of the Crucified One.]]

The first thing I want to point out is that hermits' lives manifest something to others. That is, in their everyday way of being, they make something known that others might not be able to see so well via other vocations. That something is the interior aspect of the mystery of the Church and of the human person. So, right off the bat, we have the notion that something is hidden (or interior at this point in the text) and also that it is made universally known. Hermits are called to make the inner life of the Church, consisting in intimacy with Christ, manifest in a very specific and unusual way (I argue this way is most accurately defined as paradoxical), and they do this for the sake of everyone, not merely for a limited or elitist few.  

The paragraph goes on to describe another way of thinking about the inner or interior life of the Church, namely, as personal intimacy with Christ. Here is the real key to understanding the hiddenness of the hermit's life. It is about intimacy with the Risen Christ, and with the words "silent preaching," we are introduced explicitly to the paradoxical nature of making such a hidden reality manifest. Hermits' lives are all about the journey to ever deeper union with God in Christ, just as Jesus' life was about this same journey or pilgrimage through all the exigencies of a life and death burdened and shaped by human -- though not by personal -- sinfulness. Luke describes this journey as one where Jesus grew in grace and stature, and other NT writers describe the journey as one of, "being about his Father's business" and traveling from the heights of blessedness and divine intimacy to the depths and horror of apparent abandonment by God. Even so, in all of this Jesus' life is a pilgrimage to the depths of human existence and relatedness that we identify as union with God.

We all read the Scriptures as assiduously as we can, and the truth is, we are often struck by how little of Jesus' own journey we can truly know or how little of the nature of his pilgrimage to God we  comprehend. (Huge historical quests and theological debates have focused on this and related questions during the 19th, 20th, and into the 21st centuries.) This inner life and journey is a hidden reality, and Jesus himself, though a public figure with a strikingly public vocation, remains essentially obscure to us. 

So it is with the inner life of anyone we know, no matter how well we know them. However, with regard to hermits and paragraph 921 of the Catechism, it is important to recognize that the Church uses this paragraph, not merely to assert the fact of essential hiddenness associated with the hermit vocation, especially when hiddenness is mistaken by some to imply external isolation or remaining entirely anonymous or unknown to others, but rather to explain the nature of that hiddenness and the paradoxical forms of relatedness it requires or in which it is rooted and flourishes.

I believe it is true that large parts of the hermit's life, besides their inner life, will be hidden from others, though I also believe that apart from more ordinary requirements of privacy, this is really because the whole of the hermit's life is about growing in intimacy with God in the "silence of solitude". This requires more silence and solitude than most people experience or require. However, even those parts of the hermit's life that are public (in the common, not canonical sense of this word) and observable will remain obscure because they are motivated and colored by dedication to this inner relationship. The experience that corresponds to such hiddenness and that hermits may describe to others (especially directors and one another) is the sense that their vocation is not truly understood by anyone except those whose life commitments are similar. Even then, there will be a core of undisclosable truth which cannot be known by others --- just as is true regarding the inner life and personal mystery of any human being. 

So, no, I don't deny there are significant degrees of external "hiddenness" from others in a hermit's life. What I assert and know from experience is that these are always secondary to the inner mystery and obscurity to which this vocation is dedicated. They must reflect and serve this inner mystery, which is always primary. One makes a serious misstep if one primarily identifies the hiddenness of the eremitical vocation with externals like anonymity or a refusal to relate to others, especially if one absolutizes these as though they are what this vocation is all about. At the same time, it should be noted that some externals can also make manifest something of the fact and nature of this inner mystery and journey. Thus, besides the relative lack of active ministry, for instance, the Church celebrates such vocations publicly, and grants hermits permission to wear habits and prayer garments, style themselves as Sister or Brother, use post-nominal initials, and so forth. 

While some folks may believe these things are clearly and completely understood, my own sense is that in our contemporary world, they themselves are mysterious and point to something countercultural and even more profoundly mysterious, grounded in the Ineffable. In any case, I would argue that because c 603's focus is on mirroring (revealing) the inner nature of the Church and the exhaustive incarnational journey of the hermit doing so, and because such external elements have the power to point beyond themselves to Divine Mystery, there is a wisdom in the fact that c 603 does not require or even invite anonymity, that it involves public profession and consecration, and that it grants the use of visible signs of one's consecration. These are always balanced by the completely ordinary dimensions of the hermit's life, which also have a significant, if paradoxical, sign value. Even so, they have a place, and it has nothing to do (as some will argue) with self-aggrandizement or violations of eremitical hiddenness.

Pope Leo Addresses Hermits in Rome!

A link to this address was sent to me this morning. Given what I posted yesterday after almost a month of silence I have the sense the Holy Spirit was working overtime both here and in Rome! God is truly very good and it is wonderful to have Pope Leo addressing hermits and particularly diocesan hermits while stressing not only the universal yearning for God that is at the heart of every eremitical life, but the paradoxical way solitude reflects and even empowers community!! Enjoy!!

In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Peace be with you! Good morning to you all, and welcome!

Dear brothers and sisters, thank you for being here. This meeting offers us the opportunity to reflect on the vocation of the hermit life in the Church and in today’s world.

I would like to begin with a word that the Lord said to the Samaritan woman, which we read in the Gospel of John: “The hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for such the Father seeks to worship him” (Jn 4:23). Yes, the Father seeks and calls, in every age, men and women to worship him in the light of his Spirit and in the truth revealed by his only-begotten Son. He calls women and men to devote themselves entirely to him, to seek him and listen to him, to praise him and invoke him, day and night, in the secrecy of their hearts. “When you pray”, says Jesus, “go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Mt 6:6). First of all, the Lord calls us to enter this hidden place of the heart, patiently delving into it; he invites us to make an inner immersion that demands a journey of emptying and divesting ourselves. Once we have entered, he asks us to close the door to bad thoughts in order to safeguard a pure, humble and meek heart, through vigilance and spiritual combat. Only then can we abandon ourselves with confidence to intimate dialogue with the Father, who dwells and sees in secret, and in secret fills us with his gifts.

You, as hermits, are called to live this vocation to worship and inner prayer, proper to every believer, in an exemplary way, in order to be witnesses in the Church to the beauty of the contemplative life. It is not an escape from the world, but a regeneration of the heart, so that it may be capable of listening, a source of the creative and fruitful action of the charity that God inspires in us. This call to interiority and silence, to live in contact with oneself, with one's neighbour, with creation and with God, is needed today more than ever, in a world increasingly alienated by the media and technology. From intimate friendship with the Lord, in fact, the joy of living, the wonder of faith and the taste for ecclesial communion are reborn.

Your distance from the world does not separate you from others, but unites you in a deeper solidarity. Evagrio Pontico writes: “A monk is one who, separated from all, is united to all” (Treatise on Prayer, 124), because prayerful solitude generates communion and compassion for all humankind and for every creature, both in the dimension of the Spirit and in the ecclesial and social context in which you are placed as leaven of divine life.

The diocesan hermit “is a figure in open relationship with the ecclesial body and the body of history” [1]. Your simple presence and your prayerful witness, through communion with the bishop and fraternal relationship with parish priests, become precious and fruitful, as they increase the “spiritual breath” of the Christian community. This is especially true in the inland areas of the country, rural contexts where priests and religious are becoming increasingly rare and parishes are impoverished of opportunities. Even in anonymous and complex urban contexts, marked by a bad kind of loneliness, hermit presences are oases of communion with God and with our brothers and sisters.

While you remain faithful to the legacy handed down by the Fathers of the Church in safeguarding the Word, through the lectio divina and the service of prayer and intercession with the prayer of the Psalms, you are at the same time called to interpret the new spiritual challenges with the creativity of the Holy Spirit. Indeed, it is the Paraclete who opens you to dialogue with all seekers of meaning and truth, educating you in sharing and guiding their spiritual quest, often confused. All of you can encourage others to return to themselves, to rediscover the centre of gravity of the heart, as Pope Francis taught us in the Encyclical Dilexit nos. And there, in the depths of the soul, each person can discover the fire of the desire for God that burns and never goes out, as Saint Augustine teaches us: “Let us desire continually from the Lord our God; and thus let us pray continually” (Letter 130, 18-20). You are the guardians and witnesses of this desire that dwells within every person, so that each one may discover it and nurture it within themselves.

Dear friends, our troubled times ask you, finally, to “enter into the mystery of Christ’s intercession on behalf of all humanity, accepting to ‘place yourselves in the middle’ between creatures, fragile and threatened by evil, and the merciful Father, the source of all good” [2]. Called to stand in the breach, with your hands raised and your hearts alert, walk always in the presence of God, in solidarity with the trials of humanity. Keeping your gaze fixed on Jesus and opening the sails of your hearts to his Spirit of life, sail with the whole Church, our mother, on the stormy sea of history, towards the Kingdom of love and peace that the Father prepares for all. Thank you.

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[1] Congregation for the Institutes of Consecrated Life and the Societies of Apostolic Life, The hermit’s way of life in the particular Church. «Ponam in deserto viam (Is 43,19)». Guidelines (30 December 2021), 10.

[2] The hermit’s way of life in the particular Church, 18.

On Eremitical Hiddenness: Witnessing to the Journey to Deeper Union with God

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I wondered what it is that hermits witness to, especially since they live in solitude. Do hermits witness with the hiddenness of their lives? I think you have said something like that and it sounds nonsensical to me. At least I don't get it! I mean how can someone witness to something with the hiddenness of their life? (I guess if they are witnessing to hiddenness, then they do that with hiddenness, but that seems really silly to me.) But really, what is it hermits are most concerned with witnessing to? Do you do this in your solitude?]]

Thanks for your questions. Sometimes the paradoxes involved in Christianity seem silly or absurd, at least initially. I definitely understand that. Imagine trying to explain to someone without a sense of paradox how it is that "power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9) without that leading to some kind of oppressive and dehumanizing dynamic between the weak and the powerful in the equation or relationship! Or, imagine trying to tell some folks that poverty is really a form of wealth essential to human wholeness. Understanding the truth and wisdom of such assertions requires a sense of paradox, an ability to think in terms of paradox, and the ability to live at peace with and even in it. This is so because human existence is paradoxical, and paradoxes like these are some of the most important truths we are asked to grasp and, more importantly, allow ourselves to be grasped by. (At the top of the "paradox food chain," we Christians live from the conviction that a crucified Messiah is not only NOT the height of failure, literal godlessness, and offensiveness to Divine holiness, but is instead the epitome of human integrity, commitment to meaningful life, and the glorification of a loving, merciful God.) 

At the heart of our lives,  our Christian faith and vocations, is the absolute Mystery that (or who) we cannot comprehend in the way we might other realities we know. This is Mystery that we must allow ourselves to be known by instead (cf Galatians 4:8-11). Similarly, then, the paradox of witnessing to something precisely in the hiddenness of our lives represents a profound truth that hermits allow to take hold of them more deeply, and to define their lives and vocations more and more fully and completely. So, what is it hermits witness to, and why does this happen in hiddenness? To sharpen your questions somewhat, I might also ask why it is that the real heart of an eremitical journey can never be seen by others, even when it is something a hermit witnesses to with her life? Why is it that authentic hermits affirm that no one outside this vocation can really understand it? Why doesn't the Church require anonymity from her c 603 hermits, and why does she mark them and their vocations out in the various ways she does as something to be esteemed? Or, in other words, what is the Mystery the Church so regards that stands at the heart of the eremitical vocation that requires the paradoxical description, "revealed in hiddenness"?

In the past year or so, I have written more directly about the journey or pilgrimage hermits make to union with God, or, (probably a better way of describing this journey) toward deeper union with God. I say this is the better way of describing this because in our deepest self, we are already united with God, and our pilgrimage is one we make toward not only that deepest self, but the God who is its ground and source. To speak of human beings as sinful is to affirm we are estranged from that deepest self as well as from God (and from the rest of God's creation). The hermit commits to spending her life in pilgrimage to recover and live this profound truth that stands at the heart of her being. As she does this, she gradually brings all that she has experienced and all that she is to God so that her whole self may be redeemed by God's love. This is the inner journey no one sees, the journey no one can see. It is the pilgrimage that is always only partly clear to the hermit herself, the obscure but compelling journey she undertakes in faith and response to the often profoundly mysterious call of God into Mystery itself. And, of course, it is the heart of the eremitical journey, the only thing that could possibly make sense of its solitude and other forms of asceticism, its turn from much of God's good creation and its essential renunciation (or at least the relativization) of active ministry in visible service to others and to the Church.

While it is true that the hermit witnesses to hiddenness, she only does so secondarily. What comes first is the journey itself. It is a necessarily hidden journey into the depths of human yearning and fulfillment. The same can be said for a hermit's service of God, others, the Church, and this vocation. The hermit who lives her vocation well certainly serves all of these. Her life is, avowedly, a life of service. However, it is only this insofar as it puts the hidden journey to deeper union with God first. Service to others is not unimportant in the eremitical vocation; at the same time, it is an obscure service, often neither seen nor understood by others, because its heart is the mysterious inner journey no one can see or comprehend except analogously in light of their own inner pilgrimage to redemption and deeper union with God. 

When the Church discerns the presence of eremitical vocations in myself or others, what it is looking for are signs that the person is seeking God and is capable of committing their life to this specific quest as primary and definitive. That is, it and the yearning that underlies it must come before everything else and define every dimension of the hermit's life. Additionally, the church looks to see if the person is able and committed to making this pilgrimage in and to "the silence of solitude" for the sake of the Gospel and in the name of the Church. Because the journey to deeper union with God involves the healing and redemption of the whole person, the overcoming of the estrangement of sin and growth in genuine holiness, there will be signs that such persons have turned, and continue to turn more profoundly and completely, from that which is resistant or opposed to Christ (i.e., what is often unhelpfully called "the world") and have allowed themselves to be embraced by the God of life, love, selflessness, and grace. Such a vocation is a microcosm of the foundational vocation of the Church itself, and it summarizes the nature of human existence as well. (Cf Ponam In Deserto Viam, paragraph 15 and the Catechism of the Catholic Church, pars 920-21) Again, it is a hidden reality --- though it bears witness to itself in the fruit associated with it. 

When Thomas Merton spoke of this foundational calling, he referred to the primary responsibility of the hermit:  [[. . . to live happily without affectation in his solitude.]] Merton continued, [[(the Hermit) owes this not only to himself but to his community that has gone so far as to give him a chance to live it out. . . . this is the chief obligation of the . . .hermit because, as I said above, it can restore to others their faith in certain latent possibilities of nature and of grace.]] (Contemplation in a World of Action, p. 242) And here, in the reference to "certain latent possibilities of nature and grace", we also see what the hermit witnesses to, namely, the potential of each and every human life to reveal the essential unity that exists between God and the human person, that is, the essential relationship that makes a human being truly human. Hermits seek deeper union with God not only because Emmanuel (God With Us) is who God is and wills to be, but because Emmanuel also defines the nature of truly human existence. 

Merton described the hermit's pilgrimage as one of a profound seeking and exploration of Mystery that can only be done in hiddenness. Because this solitude is universal (all persons exist as made for God and estranged from God at the same time), some persons are called to witness to the pilgrimage every person is meant to make so that hope may triumph over despair in every life. As I have noted before, Merton writes, [[My brother, perhaps in my solitude I have become, as it were, an explorer for you, a searcher in realms which you are not able to visit -- except perhaps in the company of your psychologist. I have been summoned to explore a desert area of man's heart in which explanations no longer suffice, and in which one learns that only experience counts. An arid, rocky, dark land of the soul, sometimes illuminated by strange fires which men fear and peopled by spectres which men studiously avoid except in their nightmares. And in this area I have learned that one cannot truly know hope unless he has found out how like despair hope is.]] (The Monastic Journey, pages 169-173, section published posthumously)

And here is a central clue as to why the Church esteems eremitical vocations today. In their rarity, these vocations represent calls to authentic humanity that are lived out for the sake of others and the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They witness to the universal call to union with God, and they do so with a directness and salience other vocations lack. (In saying this, I do not mean to denigrate the rich witness of other vocations that also depend upon degrees of union with God for their fruitfulness. However, it seems to me that eremitical life cannot be justified in any other way, except in terms of the universal yearning for and call to union with God, not in terms of active ministry, education, social service, pastoral ministry, direct service to the poor, etc.) Eremitical life is ALL about the mysterious hidden journey every human person is called to make to deeper union with God, and to be who we are in light of that journey with, to, and into ultimate Mystery. Rich or poor, educated or uneducated, powerful or powerless, celebrated or shrouded in obscurity, every person has been uniquely gifted with this same precious identity and calling.

In (perhaps) the most direct or dedicated way possible, where contemplative lives prioritize being over doing, eremitical life witnesses to the solitary call to be truly human in and with God by allowing God to be God With Us as completely as God wills. If one wants to understand what hermits DO with their lives, what it is that makes their lives so valuable to the Church and world, perhaps the best answer is that they are persons who are singularly focused on learning to BE themselves and to let God be God. In hermits, we find an unambiguous exemplar of ordinary human life given over to union with God and leading in its own way to the healing and fulfillment of reality that can only occur in communion with the Divine. Hermits witness to this profound and foundational giftedness and task, even when so many of their discrete gifts remain (and must remain) relatively unused, undeveloped, or relinquished entirely. Moreover, it is in the complete ordinariness and inner nature of this incarnational journey that the profoundly purposeful hiddenness of eremitical life is revealed (made known and made real in space and time). It is an incredible and divinely authored paradox that reminds us of all the other paradoxes that are so central to Christianity!! In and with Christ, in the power of the Spirit, this is who the hermit is called to be.

I hope this response is helpful. As always, if it raises more questions or fails to respond adequately to others, please get back to me, and I will revisit these.