Solemnity of Christ the King (Reprised)

 For the past 40-50 years we have been aware of a tendency to drop King from our language of God's Basilea, or Jesus' sovereignty in and over our world. A number of reasons for this change have been given: it smacks of patriarchy and is insufficiently sensitive to the egalitarian, familial nature of the order Jesus was bringing to be, we don't have Kings anymore and people don't and cannot relate to this imagery --- reasons like that. Add to this the sense that some first-rate theologians assert that a separate Solemnity dedicated to the Kingship of Christ detracts from the Ascension where Christ truly became King of heaven and earth, (Cf. NT Wright, Surprised by Hope) and we may all wonder about the importance of such a Feast.

But the results of the recent national Election in the US, the exponential growth of a brand of "Nationalism" that hijacks the name "Christian," argue that we need to recover an authentic sense of Jesus as King and the profoundly countercultural nature of the Kingdom over which he reigns. The desire for a King so Israel "could be like other countries" (as well as clobbering them when necessary), despite the warnings we hear in the OT, is deeply embedded in us as a dimension of our sinful, freedom-hating, license-loving nature.  Recall that Samuel warned his People,

11“These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen and to run before his chariots. 12 And he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plow his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. 13 He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. 14 He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his servants. 15 He will take the tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and to his servants. 16 He will take your male servants and female servants and the best of your young men[a] and your donkeys, and put them to his work. 17 He will take the tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. 18 And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves, but the Lord will not answer you in that day.

 Every line of Samuel's warning reiterates the selfishness of any King the Israelites would choose and stresses the fact that they would be diminished by this choice even to the degree of becoming his slaves. They would not be served, protected, or enriched. On the contrary, a King would take all he needed or wanted for his own sake. Samuel is very clear that the people would be exploited and harmed by such a King. Even more importantly, perhaps, such a one, or the dreams of such a one, would and had already activated their tendencies to idolatry. None of this was an expression of exaggerated alarmism on Samuel's part, nor was the desire for a king on the part of the Judeans particularly surprising. Like us, these were sinful people looking to be free from worry, pain, threat, and struggle. They wanted to see their own nation as the strongest, most favored by God, the nation capable of destroying its enemies, and, perhaps most of all, they wanted and needed to be the beloved of a God who could and would do all of these things.

This yearning and need of the human heart to give itself over entirely to the lordship of someone or something is the point of the parable in Luke where a house is swept clean of a demon (that is, it is prepared for residency by someone worthy of it) and left empty. This is at once the human heart made for God and meant to be a Temple or Tabernacle of the Holy Spirit, and it is the place where idolatry is born instead. It will not and cannot remain empty. Thus, in Luke's account, the empty house is reoccupied, but now, by numerous demons, and it ends up in a worse condition than it was originally.  In terms of this contemporary world, Pius XI recognized the truth of what Luke had originally seen so clearly. He watched as Fascism overtook numerous countries and billions of hearts, and in response, Pius created the Solemnity of the Kingship of Jesus Christ, the Feast of Christ the King of the Universe. Pius knew a heart could not wholly give itself over to two different Lordships, nor could the tabernacle of our hearts remain empty. And so, he offered us a chance to truly reaffirm the Lordship of Jesus Christ, the One whose Kingship over heaven and earth was realized (made real) in his ascension.

Samuel outlined a picture of bondage, bondage to this world and its rulers, its values, desires, and false hope. he outlined a picture where people turned to what was not of God to do what only God could do for them. He outlined a picture of idolatry.  When Jesus came, he announced another Kingdom was at hand within this world --- within this world but not of it, a Kingdom where God comes to truly dwell with us and in doing so, transforms this world utterly with his presence.  In Christ God takes on the whole of our existence including sin and death; as a result of Jesus' resurrection and ascension, these become not signs of godlessness, but Sacraments of God's presence within a world which is not yet entirely God's own. And so, today we have significant choices, choices similar but not the same as those faced by the Israelites, or by Pilate in today's Gospel, namely, the choice between worship and idolatry. 

We look at the Scriptures and understand that this is always the choice between a Kingdom characterized by truth and one dominated by falsehood, between the Kingship of Jesus, the suffering servant, or Kingship exercised by one with no desire to serve but only to rule, and no desire to alleviate suffering or free from bondage, but only to act out vengeance in the exercise of power and to reap the spoils of all of that. This is what Samuel warned the Israelites about all those years ago. It is the choice highlighted in the dialogue between Jesus and Pilate in today's Gospel. And this month, half of our country chose the latter. Like the Israelites they wanted a very this-worldly ruler, a strongman incapable of compassion, self-denial or service of the other. It was profoundly disappointing.  

In the face of a country given over to idolatry emblazoned with the false banner of "Christian Nationalism", today we celebrate a more radical choice; we choose the Kingdom of God; we choose to demonstrate with our lives that in the face of the powers of this world, God's Kingdom of truth, love, humility, and genuine freedom is real, though as yet, only partially realized right here and right now. And so, we choose to work for that Kingdom with all of the hope and love we can muster in the power of the Holy Spirit. For the time being, petty tyrants will have their day, but Jesus is Lord and King of all Creation, and much of our present and the whole of the future belong -- or will belong -- to him.

On Moving into Mysticism and Becoming a Mystic

[[ Sister Laurel, in writing about your experience at Lent earlier this year, and the whole idea of resting in and representing the heart of the Church and the heart of God within the Church, are you talking about mystical experience? Does this mean you are a mystic? Do you think you will withdraw more or will you continue teaching Scripture and doing this blog?]]

WOW! Just kidding, of course, but were you listening in on my spiritual direction session today? Because God is ineffable Mystery and because I have been writing about entering more and more fully into that unimaginable Mystery, I have to say yes, I am saying that I am becoming (or perhaps have already become) a mystic and have been writing about mysticism (and the experience central to mysticism) over the past weeks and months. (I have been comfortable calling myself a contemplative for a long time now, but using the term mystic, and cognates, has been a different matter!) What I said to my director this afternoon was that I am no longer feeling so allergic to using the term mystical or mysticism for my own prayer life or mystic for myself. It is too early to say much more than this, and, because it has to do with the nature of my prayer (and dimensions of my eremitical journey as hidden), it will always be a relatively private part of my life. Though I will likely continue to prefer the term "contemplative" for myself, it seems clear to me that this move to what might be called "mystical" is the way my eremitical life has been moving for some time and that it will continue to do so.

I don't think I will withdraw more, at least not generally. At the same time, that is something I continue to evaluate at every stage of my life and something I believe every hermit must remain open to. Presently, I plan to continue teaching Scripture in the limited way I do that. I will also keep writing, not only on this blog, but on the project I am working on.  As I say, this "mysticism" is not really brand new for me, except for my own personal adoption of the terms mystical and mystic to describe my own prayer life, and maybe myself. I am still much more comfortable with the term "contemplative". (Words describing an immediacy of Divine presence, and increased attentiveness to or awareness of this, are also more comfortable for me than the use of terms like mystical or union. In fact, my own favorite word for the process being pointed to here is deification, where that means being made truly human by and in relation to God!) However, several years ago, I asked my director to use the term "Mystery" in place of another word she referred to as we discussed the work we were doing and the journey I was making. That term signaled to me the nature of our work together and reminded me of a value or truth I needed accentuated --- both in regard to God and to myself. That has become more pronounced as I reflect on resting in and representing more and more the heart of the Mystical Body of Christ. 

Besides, in my experience, mysticism also has an ordinary, everyday quality to it in light of the Incarnation and presence of the Risen Christ in our world.  (Check out Karl Rahner on this idea of "everyday mysticism". He identifies it in some ways as the very hope of the Church. Bernard McGinn also writes about it in various places, as do some of the mystics he covers in his Presence of God series.) We are all moving toward the new heaven and new earth that the Scriptures describe as our ultimate goal (and the goal of God, who is Emmanuel!), and that means relating to one another in Christ as citizens (or at least potential citizens) of this new post-resurrection reality. Speaking of the journey I made over the past year and a half or two years ("into the shadows of death and near-despair"), especially, is to speak of a profoundly mystical journey into the heart of God and the Church. That is also true of a significant prayer experience I had back in 1982-83 or so, that foreshadowed this specific journey and promised union with God. It has just taken me some time to become more comfortable with the language of such extraordinary ordinariness!

Because my sense of the immediacy of God expressed by the language of mysticism is also the ground and source of more profound solidarity with others, I believe that the mysticism I am referring to will lead to growth in and accentuate the compassion I feel for others. Similarly, such growth will be rooted in and will deepen my relationship with both the Church and the larger world. (I think it was extremely timely that Pope Leo quoted Evagrius Ponticus and emphasized that the hermit's distance from others is not about separation from them but solidarity with them. This also underscores the extraordinary ordinariness of the mystical journey that unites us more profoundly with one another, even as it differs vastly from the  journeys others will know.)  As I have written before, real love requires distance as well as closeness. C 603's "stricter separation from the world" rejects enmeshment in "the world" --- i.e., enmeshment in that which is resistant to Christ; it is not opposed to standing in solidarity with the reality of God's good creation, or ministering to it from or even as (part of) the heart of the Church in Christ and the power of the Spirit! As Ponam in Deserto Viam notes, c 603 life, [[is a solitary life witnessed through the most complete gift of self, not as withdrawing from humanity, but as a withdrawal in the midst of humanity. II:10, p.17]]

Questions on Canon 603 and a Breaking-in Period, Illegal Hermits, and Becoming a c 603 Hermit?

[[Dear Sister, did C 603 have a kind of breaking-in period where it was not official? I listened to a video arguing that it was not accepted as the way to be a Catholic Hermit when it was first published (Widely Approved Way of Being a Hermit), and that that took some time (like from @2007 to @ 2024). Did [some] hermits become illegal when this canon was published? Did they cease being Catholic if they continue being a hermit? Is c 603 the only way to be a hermit in the Catholic Church? Also, if I have lived as a hermit for a long time, but not under c 603, can I ask my diocese to approve me? Are there any other steps I need to take to become a c 603 hermit? Thanks.]]

Thanks for your questions. The video you are linking me to is a little more than a year old, and I have responded to most of these questions and similar ones many times over the past 18 years, including in posts I made around the time this video was first posted. While I don't think it is helpful for me to address them in detail once again, I am more than happy to point you to the places where I have addressed them here in this blog. If that raises more questions for you, please do get back to me, and I will give them a new attempt. 

The basic answer, however, which I will summarize here, is that the Church does not call or make anyone illegal via c 603. There are both canonical (2 forms) and non-canonical hermit vocations. All are considered valid and valuable, but only two of these represent ecclesial vocations, vocations lived in the name of the Church, and can be specifically called Catholic. The third one is lay or non-canonical and though, of course, the person living as a hermit in this way remains a Catholic AND a Hermit, they are not Catholic Hermits. (Check the labels to the right of this article under Canonical and non-canonical, living in the name of the Church, ecclesial vocations, (and similar labels), c 603 profession and consecration, etc. You can also look at the posts put up here during the months of September and October, 2024 (around the time of the post you referred me to here) for several related posts.**

One question that is new here is the one about a breaking-in period. The answer to that question is no. Once c 603 was promulgated in October of 1983, it became the official position of the Roman Catholic Church on living solitary eremitical life in the Church's name, that is, as consecrated solitary hermits resting in and representing the Sacred heart of the Church. This doesn't mean dioceses were prepared either prudently or effectively to implement the canon. Many, even most, were not prepared to do this, including my own. That required a significant period of time, and some dioceses have not prepared themselves even yet. A learning curve was involved and in many ways, that education regarding the nature of the solitary consecrated eremitical vocation continues today, especially in light of the relative rarity of the vocation and some of the significant missteps dioceses have made with regard to c 603. 

In the writing I have done over the past almost 20 years, I have both explored and (more and more) concerned myself with educating both dioceses and candidates about the nature of the c 603 vocation. I have wanted to correct those contributing to ideas like the ones you have cited that can lead lay or non-canonical hermits to believe their vocations are not valued (or perhaps even allowed!) in the Catholic Church. I have also wanted to prevent the misuse of c 603 by dioceses trying to create hermit communities instead of properly esteeming solitary eremitical vocations who may but need not come together in lauras so long as these do not rise to the level of juridical communities. (We already have established ways to found religious communities. C 603 was neither intended nor is it appropriate for this. That is why I routinely refer to "solitary consecrated hermits" and explain that it is not redundant!) 

As one incredibly significant piece of this, I have wanted to explore and articulate what it means to have a solitary eremitical vocation that is an explicitly ecclesial vocation, one lived in the Name of the Church. I think understanding this is one place even good candidates for consecration under c 603 fall short, and something dioceses should help foster in those they admit to profession and consecration. You see, while there was no breaking-in period where c 603 was still "unofficial" or even experimental,  a time given over to assisting dioceses to understand and adequately esteem the richness and sufficiency of c 603 has absolutely been necessary. In some ways, as dioceses come to know this vocation firsthand, especially as suitable candidates come to them seeking to be professed and consecrated, this learning curve continues to be important. Stereotypes of the hermit vocation continue to be reflected in some significant ways, and candidates also need both time and diocesan assistance in coming to understand and fully live dimensions of their vocation.

Finally, if your last question anticipates a diocese "merely" signing a piece of paper "approving" you as a consecrated c 603 hermit because you have lived as a lay hermit for a long time, the answer is no, they cannot do this. C 603 is not merely about having one's hermit life "approved" by one's bishop! What your diocese can and will do is determine if they believe you are called to be professed and (eventually) consecrated (initiated into the consecrated state of life) under c 603. Because you are proposing a change in your state of life (from lay to consecrated) in an explicitly ecclesial vocation, such a step requires a mutual discernment process where the diocese explores the elements of c 603 with you, discerns your understanding and capability of living out of these elements faithfully, and determines whether you are called by God to live as a consecrated solitary hermit living c 603 in the name of the Church. If so, and when they feel you are ready for these steps, they will schedule a temporary profession and eventually, (likely after some time living this ecclesial commitment), a perpetual profession and consecration. In this way, you are given a new standing in the Church and called to faithfully incarnate a new way of serving both the Church and the World. If, on the other hand, the diocese does not believe you are called to this, they will very likely encourage you to continue living as a lay or non-canonical hermit and reassure you of the value of that particular vocation and eremitical pathway. What you are currently living is a valued way of being a hermit in the Church. Any bishop or Formation Director/Vicar will tell you this and encourage you to persevere.

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** One of the most helpful examples I think I ever put up regarding what it means to live a vocation in the name of the Church was that of a police officer hired by and acting for the city of San Mateo while living in San Francisco. She is a police officer (and a citizen of San Francisco), whether in San Mateo, where she works, or San Francisco, where she lives. Even so, she only has the authority to act as a police officer because San Mateo has authorized her to do so. That is, she is called by the City of San Mateo to make an oath and act in the name of the city and the police force of San Mateo. She is properly authorized to live as a police officer, with appropriate superiors, supervisors, training, rights, expectations, and obligations by San Mateo. This means she is not a San Francisco City police officer and cannot claim to be one. Neither can she claim that "God made her" a police officer independently of a given city and/or police force (though indeed, God may truly want this for her)! Similarly, some Catholics who are hermits live their vocations in the name of the Church, and others do not.

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.