Feast of the Transfiguration: The Gorilla in Plain View (Reprised)

Transfiguration by Lewis Bowman

Have you ever been walking along a well-known road and suddenly had a bed of flowers take on a vividness which takes your breath away? Similarly, have you ever been walking along or sitting quietly outside when a breeze rustles some leaves above your head and you were struck by an image of the Spirit moving through the world? I have had both happen, and, in the face of God's constant presence, what is in some ways more striking is how infrequent such peak moments are.

Scientists tell us we see only a fraction of what goes on all around us. It depends upon our expectations. In an experiment with six volunteers divided into two teams in either white or black shirts, observers were asked to concentrate on the number of passes of a basketball that occurred as players wove in and out around one another. In the midst of this activity a woman in a gorilla suit strolls through, stands there for a moment, thumps her chest, and moves on. At the end of the experiment observers were asked two questions: 1) how many passes were there, and 2) did you see the gorilla? Fewer than 50% saw the gorilla. Expectations drive perception and can produce blindness. Even more shocking, these scientists tell us that even when we are confronted with the truth we are more likely to insist on our own "knowledge" and justify decisions we have made on the basis of blindness and ignorance. We routinely overestimate our own knowledge and fail to see how much we really do NOT know.

For the past two weeks we have been reading the central chapter of Matthew's Gospel --- the chapter that stands right smack in the middle of his version of the Good News. It is Matt's collection of Jesus' parables --- the stories Jesus tells to help break us open and free us from the common expectations, perspectives, and wisdom we hang onto so securely so that we might commit to the Kingdom of God and the vision of reality it involves. Throughout this collection of parables Jesus takes the common, too-well-known, often underestimated and unappreciated bits of reality which are right at the heart of his hearers' lives. He uses them to reveal the extraordinary God who is also right there in front of his hearers. Stories of tiny seeds, apparently completely invisible once they have been tossed about by a prodigal sower, clay made into works of great artistry and function, weeds and wheat which reveal a discerning love and judgment which involves the careful and sensitive harvesting of the true and genuine --- all of these and more have given us the space and time to suspend our usual ways of seeing and empower us to adopt the new eyes and hearts of those who dwell within the Kingdom of God.

It was the recognition of the unique authority with which Jesus taught, the power of his parables in particular which shifted the focus from the stories to the storyteller in the Gospel passage we heard last Friday. Jesus' family and neighbors did not miss the unique nature of Jesus' parables; these parables differ in kind from anything in Jewish literature and had a singular power which went beyond the usual significant power of narrative. They saw this clearly. But they also refused to believe the God who revealed himself in the commonplace reality they saw right in front of them. Despite the authority they could not deny they chose to see only the one they expected to see; they decided they saw only the son of Mary, the son of Joseph and "took offense at him." Their minds and hearts were closed to who Jesus really was and the God he revealed. Similarly, Jesus' disciples too could not really accept an anointed one who would have to suffer and die. Peter especially refuses to accept this.

It is in the face of these situations that we hear today's Gospel of the Transfiguration. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on a mountain apart. He takes them away from the world they know (or believe they know) so well, away from peers, away from their ordinary perspective, and he invites them to see who he really is. In the Gospel of Luke Jesus' is at prayer --- attending to the most fundamental relationship of his life --- when the Transfiguration occurs. Matthew does not structure his account in the same way. Instead he shows Jesus as the one whose life is a profound dialogue with God's law and prophets, who is in fact the culmination and fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, the culmination of the Divine-Human dialogue we call covenant. He is God-with-us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place. This is what the disciples see --- not so much a foretelling of Jesus' future glory as the reality which stands right in front of them --- if only they had the eyes to see.

For most of us, such an event would freeze us in our tracks with awe. But not Peter! He outlines a project to reprise the Feast of Tabernacles right here and now. In this story Peter reminds me some of those folks (myself included!) who want so desperately to hang onto amazing prayer experiences --- but in doing so, fail to appreciate them fully or live from them! He is, in some ways, a kind of lovable but misguided buffoon ready to build booths for Moses, Elijah and Jesus, consistent with his tradition while neglecting the newness and personal challenge of what has been revealed. In some way Matt does not spell out explicitly, Peter has still missed the point. And in the midst of Peter's well-meaning activism comes God's voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!" In my reflection on this reading this last weekend, I heard something more: "Peter! Sit down! Shut up! This is my beloved Son! Listen to him!!!"

The lesson could not be clearer, I think. We must take the time to see what is right in front of us. We must listen to the One who comes to us in the Scriptures and Sacraments, the One who speaks to us through every believer and the whole of creation. We must really be the People of God, the "hearers of the Word" who know how to listen and are obedient in the way God summons us to be. This is true whether we are God's lowliest hermit or one of the Vicars of Christ who govern our dioceses and college of Bishops. Genuine authority coupled with true obedience empowers new life, new vision, new perspectives and reverence for the ordinary reality God makes Sacramental. There is a humility involved in all of this. It is the humility of the truly wise, the truly knowing person. We must be able to recognize how very little we see, how unwilling we are to be converted to the perspective of the Kingdom, how easily we justify our blindness and deafness with our supposed knowledge, and how even our well-intentioned activism can prevent us from seeing and hearing the unexpected, sometimes scandalous God standing there right in the middle of our reality.

Lenten Rule: The Best Laid Plans Often "Gang aglay" --- so Hold them Lightly!!

I am sitting in the sunroom of the Dominican house, "Our Lady of the Lake" at Lake Tahoe. It took us an extra day to get here because I 80 was closed yesterday most of the day due to zero visibility. (There was lots of snow, very powdery, blowing down into the foothills!) The best laid plans. . . . Because I put foodstuffs away in the fridge yesterday after we decided we could not come up, of course I left some of it in the fridge this morning! Either we will have to go to the store or (except for dinners, of course) I will be eating peanut butter most of the week! The best laid plans. . . you know how it goes! Of course, reminders of the Donner party's tragic saga in these very mountains about 160 years ago is hard to avoid and makes peanut butter --- peanut butter and crackers, peanut butter sandwiches, peanut butter and sardines, or even peanut butter on a spoon by itself in the absence of something to drink --- sound downright sumptuous, a delight to entertain! The best laid plans. . .often gang aglay!" Sometimes disastrously so!

Lent can be a little like that. Oh, not that it ever ends in tragedy of course (at least it doesn't do so for me usually! How can it when the "end" of the Season is Easter?), but as much as we plan for it, God will always surprise us. (Again, the season culminates with that ultimate surprise and making ALL THING NEW: EASTER!) So, this is the second half of my "What do you do for Lent?" post. In the first half I wrote about the way I approach Lent and the plans I made for the 40 days. In this half the lesson is essentially that whatever we plan, God's own movement will usually take us in directions we never thought of --- and this is the really exciting part of Lent, the part that says, "We are not in this alone and the One who is in this with us is just SO much bigger and more amazing than we can even conceive! Be open to (Him). Together amazing things can and will happen!"

But it DOES take planning! I remember reading a number of years ago about a diocesan hermit whose Rule was a scant paragraph and whose daily prayer schedule was left wide open "so the Holy Spirit would have the space to work freely!" There were no planned prayer periods, no Liturgy of the Hours, no time for walks or art or lectio divina, or even for the well-deserved and needed nap! (And, I just have to ask, when did the bathroom get cleaned or the laundry get done?) But the truth is that unless we make some plans of our own, unless we have a schedule of some sort, a vision of the way the day ordinarily goes, a regular and balanced round of prayer and rest and recreation, for instance, what is more apt to have dominion during our day than the Holy Spirit is our own ennui and idleness --- our our workaholism and activism.

A similar "heresy" I think is the notion that God has everything planned out in detail, that God will knock all of our plans into a cocked hat anyway, so best not to plan at all! Just go with the flow --- or without any flow at all, I guess. God will show us what to think, or read, or what work needs doing and will even fashion our dreams for us! Sometimes this is called quietism. Paul saw it as laziness and opined that those that sat waiting for the second coming should go hungry. The Desert Fathers and Mothers have a couple of charming stories about the same problem. As one lay hermit writes: [[Already, yesterday and again today, in the Order of the Present Moment: God unfolds Lent. It is God Who chooses, Who controls, Who plans and unfolds Lent. God does so individually, uniquely, and collectively. ]] Well, yes. And no! We are taught, "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God!" This notion that God plans our lives right down to the very least detail, right down to the food we leave in our refrigerators at home --- or the faulty travel plans made by the Donners (!) --- seems to me strangely like tempting the Lord God!

On the other hand I know of congregations of hermits whose every minute outside sleep is a regimented round of prayer periods, periods of devotions, etc. etc. Personally I dislike both options --- alternately, they seem to either give the Holy Spirit too little to work with or not nearly enough space to work in without also tempting the Lord God to intervene in some pre-conceived way. In either case, but especially the latter, I always wonder where is the time to PRAY?!*** You know, not where is the time to say prayers or slide from thing to thing without real thought, decision, or purpose, but where is the time to consciously and deliberately sit down as one might with anyone who deserved one's full attention, to breathe slowly, to get quiet, center in, and just let God work within one however God desires to do that! Jesus tells us that we are to pray without ceasing. I am pretty certain that he did not mean "Say prayers and do devotions without stopping!" Instead, I think God really means for us to become the incarnations of (His) own prayer and breath. And that, it seems to me, means some planning and hard work on our own part as we remain open to the newness and surprises God always brings. The key is not to NOT PLAN, but instead, to always hold our own plans lightly --- even as we work hard at our writing or teaching or leadership tasks or work with clients, etc. Our own best laid plans often go awry but the key is to entrust them and ourselves to God's own future-making mercy.

All good wishes for your own first week of Lent. I plan (just saying!!!) to blog several more times while I am here, but if that should devolve into long disquisitions on the creative uses of peanut butter, you'll know why! It will remind you to pray for me as I do for you!

*** In light of several questions I have received, I should say, for the moment, that of the two options given above, the one without plans and the other with a rigidly filled horarium, the first one makes most sense for an authentic hermit with a mature spirituality. Presuming the hermit really knows how to listen to God, is really in tune with what she must have to live everyday in real obedience, and is rooted in the God who comes to us in the ordinary, this "planless" approach could work quite well. But it would not work for most people and generally not at all for non-hermits or those who have retired and live alone. The first option seems to me to be geared for mature hermits then (but I still bet it leaves a lot unstated and is not as "planless" as purported), the second is geared, I think, for beginners who are new to physical solitude and silence. The genuine contemplative eremitical life falls somewhere between the two and closer to the first than the second. So again, plan but hold those plans lightly as you remain open to the Holy Spirit's movement.

On the Essence of Prayer: Living in the Name of the One Jesus Calls Abba (Reprise)

With Lent's focus on Prayer, tomorrow's Gospel asks us to look again at the model or paradigm of all Christian prayer, the Lord's Prayer. After all, it summarizes what Jesus' vocation was all about, how he prayed, how he lived, what had priority for him, and what, by extension, constitutes Christian existence. Learning to pray this prayer is not a one-time task, and recitation of it is not without risks and challenges. Instead, we are invited to learn to pray as Jesus did, to pour ourselves into its petitions, day by day and "layer" of self by layer of self. It calls us, and provides a concrete way, to allow our hearts and lives to be shaped as Jesus' was --- first by the Kingdom or sovereignty of God, and then (and only then) by our own. Yes, it teaches us to pray rightly, but more, it initiates us into a life of prayer; more correctly said perhaps, it molds and shapes us into the very prayers we are called to BE. (I am convinced that the admonition to "pray always" is a statement of the purpose of human life, and that prayer is not only an activity we are to undertake, but something we are to become. When we call Jesus "the Word made Flesh," we really are calling him an incarnate prayer, a Word event whose whole being glorifies (reveals and allows God to be) God in space and time.)

One of the things that comes up again and again is just how deceptively familiar the prayer is for us. We recite it daily, sometimes several times a day; and yet, almost every petition holds surprises for us. We simply don't know what the words mean or what they summon us to. (For instance, because we ourselves are "petitions" in search of the response God is, because  we ourselves are the question of meaning only God can and does answer, this prayer, except for the invocation, is composed only of petitions.) The invocation is a particularly striking example of our not knowing what we are being called to here. Luke's version of the prayer has simply, "Pater" (or "Abba"), while Matthew's has the more litugically suited and formed, "Our Father, who Art in Heaven!" ("Abba, you who are God") Some people in parishes have problems calling God "Father," because they treat the word as a metaphor, and as an instance of human patriarchy or paternalism writ-very-large. Others love that God is called "abba, pater" because it apotheosizes or raises to divine level their own patriarchal pretensions.

And yet, both groups have gotten something very basic wrong, namely, the invocation to the Lord's Prayer is not merely a metaphor describing divinity's "paternalness" --- one characteristic among others including maternalness. It is instead a NAME, and as a name it is symbol, not merely metaphor, and it FUNCTIONS as a name does. It symbolizes the whole reality of the person, not just those characteristics we know, but the profound mystery the person is. The Lord's Prayer begins with the revelation of and permission to invoke God BY NAME even if Matt's elaborate formulation obscures this for English readers. In Christ we are allowed, and in fact, empowered by the Holy Spirit, to call upon God as Abba, where Abba is a personal word of address which does far less to describe God than it does to give him a personal place to stand in our world and in our hearts.

We will miss this though, if we do not move beyond the prayer's familiarity and merely treat the invocation as a description of or metaphor for God. Remember, for instance, that the word "Abba" is in the vocative case, the case used for direct address. Remember that Jesus used the term "Abba" with a unique intimacy and familiarity, not as a description of God, but as direct address and name. Remember that his usage was unprecedented in Palestinian Judaism (Judiasm of the diaspora was somewhat different), not only because Jews tended to avoid referring to God as Abba (pagans did that all the time!), or because using Abba as a name and speaking it directly was too presumptuous (Divine names were not spoken or even written out), but also because the times they did refer to God as Father, it was in a collective sense and more metaphor or descriptor than name. Remember too that in Matt's day people LONGED to know both the REAL Name of God, and that their prayer was truly effective. So desperate were they for access to the real God that they stood on street corners reading from magic papyri which listed every known name of God. When Matthew warns us about using empty words [or babbling] in our prayers this is the practice he is referring to, a practice driven by the need to know and invoke God by name --- a need to pray with genuine authority and power, a need to allow and experience God's personal presence in all its ineffableness.

But, along comes Jesus with his unique relationship with this One he calls by name as Abba, thus addressing God with an unheard of familiarity and intimacy. He speaks, lives, and teaches with a new kind of authority. To put it plainly, Jesus is on a first name basis with God; he speaks in the NAME of God. Their relationship is unique and the exchanges between them equally so. When we attend to his prayer, we see that Jesus calls upon God BY NAME as "Abba, Father." He gives this One a personal place to stand in the world in the way only invocation can do, invocation in both narrower and broader senses: that is, addressing or calling upon another by name and living one's life in the name of that other implicating them in all one is and does. Jesus reveals (makes real in space and time) a new Name for God. God is no longer known simply the One who will be who he will be [ehyeh asher ehyeh, YHWH]; he is Abba, and the One whom he will be is revealed definitively in Christ in terms of unfathomable love and mercy. By extension, Christians are those marked by this name, who, through the adoption of baptism live within its power and presence, who "call upon" or invoke God in this way. It is the symbol or name marking our vocation in this world, just as it marked that of Jesus.

As I have written here before, the life of Christian prayer is a life of invocation. The task before us and which we reflect on anew each Lent is to learn and embrace what it means to live as those who call upon and live life in the Name of another --- and not just any other, but the One Jesus revealed as "Abba, Father." The Lord's Prayer initiates us into this life, and the first line, the only non-petition in the entire prayer, embodies or symbolizes the whole of this vocation. It is both invitation and challenge: not only to take this Name upon our lips, but to glorify the name of God with our lives, to become those who truly are adopted daughters and sons of the One we call Abba, Father.

Driven into the Desert by the Spirit of Sonship (Reprise)

I really love today's Gospel, especially at the beginning of Lent. The thing that strikes me most about it is that Jesus' 40 days in the desert are days spent coming to terms with and consolidating the identity which has just been announced and brought to be in him. (When God speaks, the things he says become events, momentous things that really happen in space and time, and so too with the announcement that Jesus is his beloved Son in whom he is well-pleased.) Subsequently, Jesus is driven into the desert by the Spirit of love, the Spirit of Sonship, to explore that identity, to allow it to define him in space and time more and more exhaustively, to allow it to become the whole of who he is. One of the purposes of Lent is to provide the "space" and time  needed to  allow us to do the same.

A Sister friend I go to coffee with on Sundays remarked on the way from Mass that she had had a conversation with her spiritual director this last week where he noted that perhaps Jesus' post-baptismal time in the desert was a time for him to savor the experience he had had at his baptism. It was a wonderful comment that took my own sense of this passage in a new and deeper direction. Because of the struggle involved in the passage I had never thought to use the word savor in the same context, but as my friend rightly pointed out, the two often go together in our spiritual lives. They certainly do so in hermitages! My own director had asked me to do something similar when we met this last week by suggesting I consider going back to all those pivotal moments of my life which have brought me to the silence of solitude as the vocation and gift of my life. Essentially she was asking me not only to consider these intellectually (though she was doing that too) but to savor them anew and in this savoring to come to an even greater consolidation of my identity in God and as diocesan hermit.

Hermitages are places which reprise the same experience of consolidation and integration of our identity in God. They are deserts in which we come not only to learn who we are in terms of God alone, but to allow that to define our entire existence really and concretely -- in what we value, how we behave, in the choices we make, and those with whom we identify, etc. In the "In Good Faith" podcast I did a few years ago for A Nun's Life, I noted that for me the choice which is fundamental to all of Lent and all of the spiritual life, "Choose Life, not death" is the choice between accepting and living my life according to the way God defines me or according to the way the "world" defines me. It means that no matter how poor, inadequate, ill, and so forth I also am, I choose to make God's announcement that in Christ  I am his beloved daughter in whom he is well-pleased the central truth of my life which colors and grounds everything else. Learning to live from that definition (and so, from the one who announces it) is the task of the hermit; the hermitage is the place to which the Spirit of love and Sonship*** drive us so that we can savor the truth of this incomprehensible mystery even as we struggle to allow it to become the whole of who we are.

But hermitages are, of course, not the only places which reprise these dynamics. Each of us has been baptized, and in each of our baptisms what was announced to us was the fact that we were now God's adopted beloved daughters and sons. Lent gives us the space and time where we can focus on the truth of this, claim that truth more whole-heartedly, and, as Thomas Merton once said, "get rid of any impersonation that has followed us" to the [desert]. We need to take time to identify and struggle with the falsenesses within us, but also to accept and appreciate the more profound truth of who we are and who we are called to become in savoring our experiences of God's love. As we fast in various ways, we must be sure to also taste and smell as completely as we can the nourishing Word of God's love for us. After all, the act of savoring is the truest counterpart of fasting for the Christian. The Word we are called to savor is the Word which defines us as valued and valuable in ways the world cannot imagine and nourishes us where the things of the world cannot. It is this Word we are called both to struggle with and to savor during these 40 days, just as Jesus himself did.

Thus, as I fast this Lent (in whatever ways that means), I am going to remember to allow myself not only to get in touch with my own deepest hungers and the hungers I share with all others (another very good reason to fast), but also to get in touch anew with the ways I have been fed and nourished throughout my life --- the experiences I need to savor as well. Perhaps then when Lent comes to an end I will be better able to claim and celebrate the one I am in God. My prayer is that each of us is able to do something similar with our own time in the desert.

_______________________________
Merton quotation taken from Contemplation in a World of Action, "Christian Solitude," p 244.

*** A reminder that whether we are daughters or sons of God, our adoption by God gives us a share in Jesus' Sonship. Our own daughterhood or sonship is derivative in nature; that is, it derives from  Jesus' Sonship. Thus I speak of the Spirit of Sonship, not because I am insensitive to the issues of patriarchy or inclusive language, but because my usage here is essentially and primarily Christological.

On Woundedness, Healing, and the Vocation to Eremitical Life

[[Dear Sister Laurel, When you write about the inner work you have been doing and the healing it has caused it makes me wonder if you are thinking of leaving your vows as a hermit. I am not quite sure how to ask this but you have written that hermits need to be well to make vows. Do you still hold this? Were you well when you made your vows or did you become a hermit because you were not well? (Please don't get me wrong. I love your blog and I wouldn't have thought of asking about this except for your raising the issue yourself!!!) You have also said that with this inner work you have come to stand in a place where you have never been before (I think I got that right) so could this mean you might be happier doing active ministry and not living as a hermit?]]

Really important questions. Thank you for them and don't worry, I think I understand why you asked them. Thank you also for loving my blog; it has grown into something I never foresaw and most of the time am rather proud of. Let me begin my response by saying I think you may have missed a recent post I put up on "Creating the Heart of a Hermit" (that's  not the exact title). In that post I affirmed that in the work I have been doing what became clear to me was that God has been preparing me for this vocation throughout the whole of my life. By that I don't mean that God planned the events which tended to isolate me or keep me feeling profoundly alone (I could never love or serve such a God), but rather, that God was continually present, unceasingly calling me by Name to live freely and fully in communion with (Him) and loving me in a way which empowered me to realize the potential God endowed me with.

The movement of God in my life was constantly about the transformation of isolation into authentic solitude and I grew to love solitude as an expression of community even if it is rarely understood in this way by non hermits. In other words, God does not will isolation but solitude is one form of the redemption of isolation, a redemption marked by reconciliation with one's deepest self, with God and with others. It is marked by the healing of woundedness; as one grows in what I refer to in the language of canon 603 as "the silence of solitude" so too one may experience deeper healing and the call to this. Thus, I believe that my heart IS the heart of a hermit and that this heart has been formed both implicitly and explicitly over a period of almost seven decades by the love of God. In other words, I am not leaving my vows or this life. I am called to it by God through the mediation of (His) Church and I am surer of that today than I was even on the day I  made definitive profession.

But this leaves some of your thornier questions untouched, doesn't it? Let me give them a shot. First, the questions about wellness. What I have said in the past is that while the environment of the hermitage allows personal healing work to be undertaken it is better to take care of such matters before making any public commitment. I have also written that eremitical life is not the life for folks with serious mental illnesses, especially those with thought disorders or disorders with religious ideation. But the fact is that many people may function very well, have sound spiritualties, well-developed theologies, and be essentially well despite deep woundedness from this or that trauma. Their woundedness may be the basis of their turning to God long before they learn faith or the love of God. It may also be a major source of their capacity for compassion and service or ministry. I believe this describes my own journey to and within eremitical life --- I was profoundly wounded but essentially well as well as capable of and committed to a growing wholeness and holiness in the silence of solitude.*** It is important to remember that in Christianity we refer to wounded healers and a Divine power made perfect in weakness for a reason! We proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ and we know that this good news can ONLY be truly heard and embraced by those who have come to know their own sinfulness and/or woundedness.

However, I am not talking about serious mental illness when I refer to woundedness and eremitical life specifically and I continue to believe those who have serious mental illnesses should ordinarily not be admitted to profession or consecration as hermits. But I do believe that some persons may be profoundly initiated by their woundedness into both the physical isolation which is central to eremitical solitude and the yearning for the love of God which can help redeem and transfigure isolation into authentic solitude. When this happens such a person may find that they are well-prepared temperamentally and perhaps  psychologically if not in other ways (intellectually and spiritually, for instance) to embrace a call to eremitical life so long as that life is well and competently directed and the person's commitment to growing in wholeness and holiness are strong. Remember that Thomas Merton rather famously is reported to have said that "Hermits are made by difficult Mothers" and his own youth and adolescence were marked by significant loss and aloneness. The result was a sense of existential emptiness  --- wonderfully chronicled and analyzed in Gunn's Journeys into Emptiness --- which, through long formation, was transfigured in his monastic and eremitical life into a solitude defined in terms of communion, love, and remarkable fruitfulness.

One of the reasons eremitical vocations must be carefully discerned over a period of time and require recommendations by longtime spiritual directors, Vicars for Religious, pastors and others, sometimes including psychologists and physicians, has to do not only with the eccentricity of the vocation and the rarity of someone being meant to live a fully human life in the silence of solitude, but with the need to be sure the person's capacity for living this vocation in a healthy and fruitful way is certain. This was one of the first questions my own diocese and Vicar had to ask when they began considering professing me or anyone else under canon 603. Sister Susan Blomstad, OSF (Vicar for Religious and Director of Vocations at the time) travelled to New Camaldoli Hermitage in Big Sur with another Sister to question the prior about this particular question: What did the Camaldolese look for in discerning candidates who could live healthy eremitical lives? Every diocese that has proposed to profess anyone under c 603 has had to deal directly with the same question, not because eremitical life is unhealthy but because it is extremely rare and eccentric.

Personal woundedness can cut two ways: it can make a person absolutely unsuitable for this vocation and require they discern a different call which is really their personal way to wholeness and holiness, or it can actually shape a person's heart and psyche in ways which would then make this call a gift of God  that is especially tailored to the person's fulfillment in Christ and the context for a journey to genuine wholeness and holiness. Which way the person's woundedness will cut takes time to become evident; it will need ongoing work with a director, the discernment of a number of qualified people, and commitment to the life itself (prior to vows as well as thereafter) to reach clarity. Those who are dismayed that the time frame for becoming a diocesan hermit is long and individualized, or that it requires significant evidence of the candidate's capacity to make the commitment required and to thrive in light of this commitment (something evident with temporary vows in those eventually admitted to perpetual profession) probably have not adequately appreciated the various reasons for and types of solitude, or the distinction between being a hermit, especially one living eremitical life in the name of the Church, and being a lone individual who is pretty much simply "doing his/her own thing".

I think I have answered all of your questions. If I missed something, or if my responses raise more questions for you please get back to me. Your questions were really excellent and drew from several of my posts or positions written over a period of time; I enjoy responding to those kinds of queries and usually see no reason at all to take offense. For the most part they help me come to greater clarity on things I might never consider directly on my own, so again, thank you. I really want you to feel free to follow up if that is necessary.

*** when I speak of essential wellness here I am not speaking about physical health. As readers tend to know, I have struggled with chronic physical illness my entire adult life. This was a factor in my discernment of eremitical life but was not the defining element. Today it is even less influential in regard to my vocation while remaining something I struggle with. Many diocesan hermits have similar concerns with health issues and these may have played a part in discerning a vocation to solitude rather than to apostolic religious life; even so, none of those I know became hermits because of illness. Instead illness may have been a large part of creating a desert context which intensified or sharpened our search for God just as it deepened our meeting with God and our embrace of the gratuitous love offered to us in this "wilderness."

Choose Life, Only That and Always (Reprise)

When I was a very young Sister, I pasted the following quotation into the front of my Bible. It was written by another Sister, and has been an important point of reference for me since then:

Choose life, only that and always,
and at whatever risk. . .
to let life leak out, to let it wear away by the mere
passage of time,
to withhold giving it and spending it
is to choose
nothing. (Sister H Kelly)

The readings from the Thursday after Ash Wednesday both deal with this theme, and each reminds us in its own way just how serious human life is --- and how truly perilous!! Both of them present our situation as one of life and death choices. There is nothing in the middle, no golden mean of accomodation, no place of neutrality in which we might take refuge -- or from which we can watch dispassionately without committing ourselves, no room for mediocrity (a middle way!) of any kind. On one hand lies genuine "success", on the other true failure. Both readings ask us to commit our whole selves to God in complete dependence or die. Both are clear that it is our very Selves that are at risk at every moment, but certainly at the present moment. And especially, both of them are concerned with responsive commitment of heart, mind, and body --- the "hearkening" we are each called to, and which the Scriptures calls "obedience."

The language of the Deuteronomist's sermon (Deut 30:15-20) is dramatic and uncompromising: [[ This day I set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendents shall live,. . . for if you turn away your hearts and will not listen. . .you will surely perish. . .]] Luke (Lk 9:22-25) recounts Jesus' language as equally dramatic and uncompromising: [[If you would be my disciples, then take up your cross daily (that is, take up the task of creating yourselves in complete cooperation with and responsiveness to God at every moment). . .If you seek to preserve your life [that is, if you choose self-preservation, if you refuse to risk to listen or to choose an ongoing responsiveness] you will lose it, but if you lose your life for my sake, you will save it. For what does it profit a person to gain the whole world and then lose or forfeit the very self s/he was created to be?]]

I think these readings set out the clear agenda of Lent, but more than that they set before us the agenda of our entire lives. Our lives are both task and challenge. We do not come into this world fully formed or even fully human. The process of creating the self we are CALLED to be is what we are to be about, and it is a deadly serious business. What both readings try to convey, the OT with its emphasis on Law (God's Word) and keeping that Law, and the Gospel with its emphasis on following the obedient Christ by taking up our lives day by day in response to the will of God, is the fact that moment by moment our very selves are created ONLY in dialogue with God (and in him through others, etc). The Law of Moses is the outer symbol of the law written in our hearts, the dialogue and covenant with God that forms the very core of who we truly are as relational selves. The cross of Christ is the symbol of one who responded so exhaustively and definitively to the Word of God, that he can literally be said to have embodied or incarnated it in a unique way. It is this kind of incarnation or embodiment our very selves are meant to be. We accept this task, this challenge --- and this privilege, or we forfeit our very selves.

God is speaking us at every moment, if only we would chose to listen and accept this gift of self AS GIFT! At the same time, both readings know that the human person is what Thomas Keating calls, "A LISTENING". Our TOTAL BEING, he says, IS A LISTENING. (eyes, ears, mind, heart, and even body) Our entire self is meant to hear and respond to the Word of God as it comes to us through and in the whole of created reality. To the degree we fail in this, to the extent we avoid the choices of an attentive and committed life, an obedient life, we will fail to become the selves we are called to be.

The purpose of Lent and Lenten practices is to help us PARE DOWN all the extraneous noise that comes to us in so many ways, and become more sensitive and responsive to the Word of God spoken in our hearts, and mediated to us by the world around us through heart, mind, and body. We fast so that we might become aware of, and open to, what we truly hunger for --- and of course what genuinely nourishes us. We make prayers of lament and supplication not only so we can become aware of our own deepest pain and woundedness and the healing God's presence brings, but so we can become aware of the profound pain and woundedness of our world and those around us, and then reach out to help heal them. And we do penance so our hearts may be readied for prayer and made receptive to the selfhood God bestows there. In every case, Lenten practice is meant to help us listen carefully and deeply, to live deliberately and responsively, and to make conscious, compassionate choices for life.

It is clear that the Sister who wrote the quote I pasted into my Bible all those years ago had been meditating on today's readings (or at least the one from Deuteronomy)! I still resonate with that quote. It still belongs at the front of my Bible eventhough the ink has bled through the contact paper protecting it, and the letters are fuzzy with age. Still, in light of today's readings I would change it slightly: to let life leak out, to let it wear away by the mere passage of time, to refuse to receive it anew moment by moment as God's gift, to withhold giving it and spending it is to refuse authentic selfhood and to choose DEATH instead.

Let us pray then that we each might be motivated and empowered to chose life, always and everywhere --- and at whatever risk or cost. God offers this to us and to our world at every moment --- if only we will ready ourselves in him, listen, and respond as we are called to!

What Am I Doing for Lent?

[[Hi Sister, I wondered what you are doing for Lent. Thank you.]]

Hi and thanks for the question. I seem to get this question most years and I am never really happy with my answer. That's because my choice during Lent is to do something which impacts on the whole of my life in solitude rather than doing one extra thing here or there; when I try to explain this it sounds complicated when it is really not. So, I am going to try again and point to a few things I am doing during Lent. I hope it is helpful.

First, I am continuing the inner work I began on June 1st. We have reached a new stage in this I think and it will require more writing, journaling, drawing, and other work on my part. In particular I want to work on a timeline of the work we have done over the past nine months which is sort of a special project. It will allow me to revisit areas of healing and growth, deepen these if necessary (places requiring healing often need to be revisited, sometimes many times) and generally integrate more fully the work we have done during this time. This is an intensification of work I do anyway but some parts of it will be new and Lent seems like a good time to be sure I am fully on track with this; in this way I think in the following months we may move forward even more fruitfully. This work will impact all other parts of my life (work, rest, prayer, parish life, other lifestyle issues) so this is the most far-reaching thing I will do this Lent.

Second, I am rewriting my Rule in part. I did a more significant rewrite several years ago but parts of it need to be revised and one critical section needs to be added. This means I will be spending more time studying, reflecting on, and praying about a couple of sections of the Rule, especially stricter separation from the world and on the nature and praxis of the hiddenness of the solitary eremitical vocation. Some minor work needs to be done on the section on the diocesan delegate and probably on a few other sections but those will not require the same kind of preparation or attention. This is an evolving vocation and I am growing in it as well. Rewriting sections is something which is natural every few years (5-10) or so but attention to my own growth is what drives such a project.

Third, I am spending a week with a Sister friend at her congregation's house in Tahoe next week. We have done this before and the time, though part of my friend's Spring break (she teaches math at Dominican University) usually serves much like a retreat. While there will be time for recreation in the afternoons, mornings tend to be spent together doing our own work and praying as we each need. (I haven't decided which project I will work on here; besides my Rule I will bring materials for two other projects, one for something I hope to offer my parish and one for dioceses on canon 603 and formation of hermit candidates. I also have some violin parts to learn --- glad I have an effective practice mute!! The house is not a large one!)

We each "fend for ourselves" for breakfast and lunch and though we are usually together, mornings and afternoons tend to have a more solitary flavor. Evenings begin with shared prayer, daily readings, and Communion and then centers around dinner in front of the fire talking. We tend to continue this until we crash. (We ordinarily have wine for dinner and my own tolerance is slight so I am apt to crash first!) Since I am not much of a cook and my friend is a fantastic one (she has a genuine "rep" in this!) she will do all the dinners this time (I may make soup one night) but she will also make me her sous chef and teach me (a little of) what I don't know! That's exciting and a little scary. I got a lot of flak from readers the last time I wrote about going on a similar trip ("What do you mean you're a hermit going on vacation --- and during Lent???!!!" " How dare you call yourself a hermit???!!!") so I hope that is not repeated! For me this week tends to be both retreat and vacation; it is one of shared solitude and it is extremely life-giving; it should help set the tone for the rest of Lent.

Fourth, I am continuing reading in a couple of areas. The first is on the gift of tears. The second is Andre Louf's book Tuning into Grace which is on continuing conversion. (Both of these are focused on metanoia and tie into the work I am doing with my director as well. The reading is meant to support this work and help extend it where that is possible.) The third is something I always reflect on during Lent, namely the Theology of the Cross. I am reading NT Wright's  book, The Day the revolution Began --- something I began a couple of months ago and got away from. The way the cross works generally and the way it works in my life specifically effects every part of my life.

In my original interview regarding admission to perpetual eremitical profession with Archbishop Vigneron, he asked me about my favorite Saint in a kind of ice-breaker question. (We had only met briefly at my parish when he made sure I was on his calendar.) I said Saint Paul was my favorite and then explained the place of his theology of the cross in my life; I also found myself babbling a bit and saying, "If I could spend the rest of my life coming to understand his theology of the cross I would be a happy camper!" Well, that has not changed over the last ten years; it has only become a clearer need and stronger desire. This too ties into the inner work I have been doing and may lead to some writing or drawing which illustrates this period of my life.

Mainly though, in all of this I am doing what I always do while paying special attention to how the inner work changes things. It is all about continuing to become the person God calls me to be and living my life with greater fullness and integrity. Lent seems to me to be a period where we focus even more specifically on conversion  (the change of our minds and hearts in ways which allow them to reflect the mind and heart of Christ) and responding to our vocations (responding to Christ's call) with new and renewed vision; we do this, I think, so we can celebrate the victory over sin and death achieved in Jesus' death and resurrection in greater depth and joy. We do this so we can live (fully embody or incarnate) the Gospel of God in Christ. That has been the purpose and thrust of the work I have undertaken these past nine months too so in some ways this Lent is the period where I focus on consolidating what has occurred there so that I can approach Easter and, like the whole of God's creation post-resurrection, I can truly be "in a place" I have never been before.

A Contemplative Moment: On the Essence of Spiritual Direction

 

To “listen” another’s soul
into a condition
of disclosure and discovery
may be almost the greatest
service that any human being
ever performs for another.
 

by Douglas Steere in

 Gleanings, A Random Harvest

New Camaldoli Hermitage Requires and Requests Assistance

I received the following email this evening from the Prior of New Camaldoli Hermitage. Because of some really terrible storms here in California New Camaldoli has been particularly badly hit and are cut off in a number of ways. They are requesting aid. The need is real, the cause a good one. Please read the following and help if you can!

 

thanks,

Sister Laurel, Er Dio

 

To our community of oblates and friends, far and wide:

 

as you have read in the news, Big Sur has been hit by a series of historic winter storms that have devastated the communities and highways of this beautiful coast. The Hermitage has suffered great damage to our road as well. Because of highways blocked by slides and damaged bridges, the monks and staff are cut off from normal deliveries of supplies, and we have had to close our doors to guests and visitors. Our main avenue of supporting ourselves has been taken away for the near future.

 

We firstly and most importantly ask for your prayers: prayers that those whose lives have been altered by these storms will have the courage and heart to carry on; prayers that the crews working feverishly to repair broken highways will be safe and not lose hope as slides continue to rain down; prayers that we all have the faith and courage to fulfill God's will, and use this catastrophe to grow in love and support of each other and our environment.

 

Secondly, we ask for any financial support you may be able to afford and to spread this request to your network of friends and family so that we can overcome the financial and physical damage done to the Hermitage by these storms (which are not over yet).

 

This winter damage is turning out to be the single biggest challenge to the New Camaldoli Hermitage in its 59-year history. We are the keepers of this beautiful and sacred land and hermitage, and now more than ever before we need help to bring it back to safe and operational condition. We are stranded, between broken bridges and broken highways. Our phones do not work. We have limited fuel and even more limited funds. But we are not broken in spirit; we refuse to leave, to give into these storms, while there is still a chance to remain and repair damages.

 

If you can help financially, please visit our disaster relief site athttps://www.gofundme.com/Newcamaldolirelief

Your donations are tax-deductible. Your support, in any form, is gratefully received. Please consider passing this message on to your networks. And blessings to you.

Monks and friends of New Camaldoli.