The Diocese of Oakland Has a New Bishop!

Congratulations to Bishop Salvatore Joseph Cordileone, newly appointed Bishop of Oakland! An auxiliary Bishop in San Diego currently, he will be installed as Bishop of the Diocese of Oakland on May 5th, 2009. A biography of the new Bishop can be found on the USCCB website.

A bit of an addition (April 8. 2009). I was able to meet Bishop Cordileone briefly after the Chrism Mass last Thursday evening, and also, of course, heard him preach, watched him preside at Mass, etc. He is personable, speaks to people fairly directly and preaches with an ease which was notable. He referred to Vatican II several times (and not as an apparent Code word for a pre-Vatican II agenda!), focused on the whole people of God as a priestly anointed people while also honoring the ordained priesthood appropriately, is committed to the health of our local church, speaks Spanish fluently and with a "perfect" accent (so I am told since my own Spanish is just okay!), and was reverent without being stiff or overly formal. He will be celebrating the Easter liturgies at Christ the Light this week, so there will be more chances for others in the diocese to see him in action.

The coming of new leadership is always a time for anxiety, and we are all holding our breath to see what kind of leadership Bishop Cordileone will provide. Fortunately it sounds like Archbishop Vigneron left things in good shape in terms of a pastoral plan, etc --- no surprise there. In any case I will probably not have a chance to actually meet with Bp Cordileone until sometime after his installation and the dust settles from his move --- perhaps a couple of months from now. I do look forward to that however. So, while I still don't know my new Bishop really, there is excitement as well as anxiety, and that is good I think.

Do you want to be Well? John 5:1-16

I am posting this here temporarily simply because it was written for today's readings last year and was posted then. Since I have written nothing specifically for today, I am repeating this post. (Hey! It's not a BAD piece! Well worth another look!)



Today's Gospel is one of those intensely intriguing ones where the reader plays a huge part in determining what actually happens in the story (because the story is not a matter merely of the past; the Gospel writer very much WANTS it to draw us in as well). I once remarked in an earlier blog entry that some of Jesus' parables are rather like Thematic Aperception Tests, and today's Gospel strikes me very much that way --- there is much left undefined or ambiguous, lots of room for projection, for implicating ourselves in the story and interpreting the questions, responses, followup behavior, etc. For those unfamiliar with the TAT, this is a psychological test often given to candidates for religious life, priestly ordination, etc. During the test the client is shown a series of pen and ink drawings, ordinarily a series of ambiguous pictures, and asked to tell the stories of the characters and scenes depicted there. S/he is asked to characterize the situation in each drawing, narrate how it came to be, and also give the story some sort of an ending. It is quite an enjoyable test UNTIL one realizes that the ONLY thing exposed for the tester is the inner and psychological life of the client!!! THAT is laid bare with incredible clarity! Well, today's gospel reading can function that way for us today, and would be wonderful for lectio.

Several things struck me right away. First, the reference to multitudes of sick, crippled, etc, in the temple area, but somehow also separated from the very life of the Temple. Second, Jesus' question to the one man who had been paralyzed for 38 years (a whole generation is signified here): "Do you want to be well?" --- certainly an intimate question which also retains complete respect for the man's freedom and innate dignity. Thirdly, the man's not-so-direct answer: "I have no one to put me in the water, and before I can get there, someone else has already entered." Fourthly, there is the exchange between Temple officials and the healed man who is walking and carrying his mat on the Sabbath. Both sides of this exchange are interesting: the officials' for their blindness and lack of priorities, and then for their focused hostility, and the response of the healed man who says he does not know who healed him or commanded him to take up his mat. And fifthly, after meeting Jesus again later on, and being challenged by him to not fall into sin so that something worse than paralysis befalls him, the now-healed man runs back to Temple officials to inform them that it was Jesus who healed him on the Sabbath!

The reference to multitudes of sick and crippled underscored for me a sense I already had, namely, that this gospel addressed all of us as sick or crippled in some way. When coupled with Jesus' very direct question, "Do you want to be well?" I think only a person who has never realized how it is we each come to terms with our various forms of unwellness, how we collude with them, struggle against them, accommodate them, and eventually accept them as more or less natural, would think Jesus' question a strange or completely obvious one. Afterall, after 38 years of illness most of us would have built our lives around the illness in some way which allows us a more or less comfortable accommodation to its limitations and demands --- even if this process is never perfect! To get well after 38 years of illness is no less a dramatic change than becoming seriously ill in the first place. Physical ailments are one thing, and they typify all the various ways a person can come to terms with something that is not natural or fully human --- and accommodate these things we certainly do!! But during Lent, the focus is more on our spiritual illness or lack of wellbeing, and there is nothing obvious about the answer to the question, "Do you want to be well?" Indeed oftentimes we have ignored the illness and have no awareness healing is necessary, much less at hand! Furthermore, when we ARE aware of the illness, we may not want to be healed really, just improved on a little! We don't want to commit ourselves to REAL spiritual healing. That, afterall, goes by the name of holiness, and who in the world REALLY seeks to be holy today???

I was struck by the paralyzed man's response. He does not say, "Yes, I have been waiting here for almost 4 decades. I want to be healed more than anything in the world!" Neither does he recognize that Jesus is actually the true living water and source of his healing as others have already done. His response COULD be a kind of blaming of others, or it COULD be an indictment of the religious system of his day which isolates those who are ill or crippled from the life of the Temple. It COULD be the cautious answer of one who is just now considering the idea that PERHAPS he COULD be healed and is beginning to get his mind (and heart!) around the fact that today might be the day. It COULD be the resigned response of one who has given up and knows that he will never be the first in the pool, and probably would not be healed there even if he were first! It could even be the response of a person who would like Jesus to be a little more realistic and see what the paralyzed man is really up against! (See what I mean about projecting ourselves into the story? It's terrific for uncovering our OWN hidden and not-so hidden motives and attitudes toward healing!)


Following his healing (an act of God which still requires trust and courage by the formerly paralyzed man; he still MUST pick up his mat and walk, afterall!), there is the rather chilling encounter with the temple officials. How many of us identify with their inability to see what is REALLY right in front of them, their lack of perspective, their legalistic attitudes, or their focused hostility at Jesus? And yet, how many of us have approached liturgy, for instance, with the very same mindset and condemned some breach of the rubrics when what was far more important was the healing of a fellow Christian in some major way, shape, or form we failed even to see? None of us like to see ourselves as scribes or pharisees, but all of us have a bit of closet temple-official locked inside our hearts, I am afraid! For some, it has become the primary attitude with which they approach their parish liturgy: what can I find wrong today? What breach of the Sabbath (e.g., Mass rubrics) can I point out today? How many unorthodoxies can I locate in Father's homily?" And of course, liturgy is not the only area in which such an attitude can be operative. How often do we notice someone did not follow the rules or "draw inside the lines", so to speak, in our daily lives --- while completely neglecting the fact that the person has ACHIEVED something they had been unable to perform until this point? If one walks away from this story without seeing something of themselves in this exchange between temple officials and healed paralytic, or fails to be challenged, I would be amazed!

Then there is the encounter with Jesus later in the story, after the man has been challenged by the Temple officials for carrying his mat. Jesus affirms his new condition "See, you are well!" and challenges him not to sin, lest something worse result. Does Jesus buy into some naive linkage between sin and illness? Is he asking us to do so? If so, how so? What IS the linkage REALLY? Is Jesus saying that sin can lead to worse things than physical illness? Is he reminding the man that he must commit himself to something besides his illness or his heart will be filled with something unworthy? And then there is the man's response: he runs back to the Temple officials to tell them the healer's name! Is he consciously betraying Jesus (we have been told in this and earlier readings that Jesus is staying away from crowds which are now dangerous to him)? Is he merely trying to tell the officials the simple answer to what they asked, naive of any awareness that this constitutes a betrayal of his healer (afteralll, he has been on the margins of what has been happening due to his illness)? Is he trying to fit into the Temple from whence he has been ostracized for so long? Is he trying to curry favor, in other words, or simply trying to show how responsible he can be now that he is well? What illnesses still afflict him? Blindness? Insecurity? And what kind of blindness then? Ingratitude? What is it that motivates this man? Once again, we can read critically, exegetically, of course, but to some extent, I think we will have to project ourselves onto or into the text to answer many of these questions, and to really HEAR the text. So long as we are clear this is what we are doing, in this way we will learn more about ourselves than we will ever learn about the man in the story!!

For me, healing stories are always difficult, but this Lent, where the focus is not on chronic physical illness, but rather on all the failures in humanity which regularly plague me, Jesus' question, "Do you want to be well?" hits hard. It hits hard because it presupposes an awareness of being unwell in fundamental ways which require a healer, a messiah of Jesus' caliber and character. It presupposes the ability to say, "Yes" not only because I am unwell, but because I have colluded with the dominant culture so much that I often have remained unaware of my basic unwellness and suppose I am essentially fine --- just a "bit of a sinner" you know! And of course, it commits me to picking up my mat and walking on with it, right in the midst of all those who will be offended by the act! For a monastic and a hermit, this picking up my mat and walking with it will look differently than it will for some, but in this day and age, the call to an exhaustive holiness is no more acceptable for hermits than it is for businessmen or housewives, parents, professionals, etc. Do I want to be well? All of my focus on humility this Lent had led to this one reading, and this one question. And I think the answer really must be, "Yes, no matter how much admitting and accepting my own brokennness and embracing genuine holiness scares me!" For many different reasons I may be more comfortable with a divine king than a divine physician, but this is Jesus' own question to me in this season of my life --- it is not projection on my part!! Of that I have no doubt at all. So, then, how is he speaking to you?

More followup Questions on Becoming a Diocesan Hermit

[[Dear Sister, if one wants to become a diocesan hermit then you are saying the diocese will not make one a hermit. I get that I think. Are you saying that a diocese just rubber stamps what is already the case? Why should one want that?? Also, what if someone wants to become a hermit, but is not one? What then? Oh, and what if ones does everything as you suggest and the church still refuses to let the person be a diocesan hermit? What then? Seems this could waste an awful lot of a person's time!]] (redacted from original)


First, let me respond to the question about "rubber stamping." It is a bit bluntly put, but a good question. No, a diocese does not simply rubber stamp what is already there, and I apologize if that is the impression I gave. A diocese really and truly engages in a process of discernment and also, if one is admitted to profession and consecration as a diocesan hermit, the church herself mediates God's own call to the person. The vocation is an ecclesial one and while one may think one is called to this, until the church herself agrees, admits to profession, calls the person forth from the assembly, receives their vows and prays the prayer of consecration over them, the call itself is AT BEST incompletely given or received. Once these things occur the hermit will more and more grow into THIS SPECIFIC vocation, not just a hermit, but a diocesan hermit, not just vowed privately, but publicly so, not just responsible to live a life of  the silence of solitude, prayer and penance, but to do so in the church's own name. A whole new set of rights, obligations, and responsibilities come with this profession and consecration, and while some things will change little, some things will change a great deal and everything will be seen in a new way.

So, no the church does not merely rubber stamp something that already exists, but she does work with something that is extant, even if that is not yet well-developed. She recognizes a vocation that is there essentially, the vocation to be a hermit, and she then discerns whether there is also a call to public profession and the consecrated state of life, or whether the person should, at this point in time at least, remain a lay hermit. It is true that in this process of discernment the church therefore rightly considers the quality of the vocation, whether the person is really suited for it, whether it is healthy, whether the reasons for the solitude are valid, and so forth, but it remains true that she is still working with something that is already there in one way or another. Remember, of course, that the church also recognizes the existence of lay hermits and esteems the lay vocation. Remember too that the majority of hermits will always be lay hermits, not diocesan or religious hermits. A vocation to lay eremitical life is a significant vocation --- and also a relatively rare one. Still, it is the case that when the discernment concludes someone is called to diocesan eremitical life the church must, to some extent, be working with a person who has already essentially become a genuine hermit some years before she is admitted to profession and consecration.

Your last questions about being refused by the diocese, etc are good ones too and given the rarity of genuine eremitical vocations, there is no doubt that the church says "no" more often than she says yes to petitions regarding Canon 603 (though my impression is there are relatively few petitions regarding Canon 603 in any case). However, one of the reasons I personally insist that the diocese is not about forming hermits but instead about discerning the vocation before them is not only because that really is what happens, but precisely so the person already knows who s/he is in terms of eremitical life in some form before s/he petitions. S/he MUST do this to succeed in her petition, not least because the eremitical vocation is little understood generally, and the negative stereotypes and bad reasons for embracing solitude or petitioning for canonical status are unfortunately quite prevalent. As I have noted, eremitical life draws nutcases, and Canon 603 is apparently general and simple enough to make it seem an easy berth to accommodate simple (or not-so-simple) solitary eccentricity which does not constitute eremitical life. If a lay hermit really knows who s/he is before approaching the diocese, it will be easier to make it clear immediately that her reasons for embracing solitude are sound ones, and s/he is a serious candidate for Canon 603 consideration. By the way, I think s/he also MUST do this if s/he is to continue living the life should the diocese refuse to profess and consecrate her. More about that below.

As I have already said, it takes time and the grace of God to make a hermit, and again, as Thomas Merton reminds us: "the door to solitude only opens from the inside." (Disputed Questions, "Notes for a Philosophy of Solitude") One cannot succeed in solitude by sheer acts of will. Solitude will chew one up and spit one out unless one is truly called, unless Solitude herself opens the door to the person. Neither is there a college, seminary, or graduate school which teaches one how to be a hermit. But if one has been lead by life and the grace of God to become a hermit, and the diocese then refuses to profess her under Canon 603, the person has lost nothing of her essential vocation. She is still called to solitude, still is a hermit, etc. The time spent in the diocesan discernment process will not be wasted, and she will grow in her vocation, especially perhaps, in the perception of the place and importance of the lay vocation to eremitical life. I firmly believe this is true even if the diocese errs in their decision or makes it for inadequate reasons (for instance, because the diocese has decided not to profess ANYONE under canon 603 --- something that is still the case today in some places.)

What WOULD be a waste of time is if one spent a couple of years as a solitary person pretending (or simply trying) to be a hermit, approached a diocese expecting them to FORM him/her into a "real" hermit with "automatic" profession and consecration at the end of the process. Consider what would happen if five years down the line, and with no real formation being given by the diocese, the chancery officials simply say, "Sorry, it's not going to happen!" or "You don't have this vocation!" (I am assuming they would be more tactful, but the news would still feel this blunt.) Can they really mean one is not called to be a hermit in ANY substantial sense? Has one been living a lie for 5 and more years? What is one to do then? Continue living as one has and/or go off and do something else? How is she to reconcile herself to the judgment of the church in this matter --- because in some way, she must do this? If, on the other hand one is clear that the diocese is not about MAKING or FORMING one into a hermit, etc, the time spent in this process CAN be fruitful despite the disappointment of not being admitted to profession or called to be a diocesan hermit or chosen for the consecration it involves. The decision then is more apt to relate to profession and consecration and not to eremitical life per se. One can more easily continue living as one feels called, explore the meaning and consequences of the lay eremitical vocation, and grow from the experience while STILL reconciling themselves to the diocese's decision (or trying sincerely to do so).

Anyway, good questions. Thanks for sending them on. As always, if my responses raises other questions or didn't adequately answer something, please get back to me.

ADDITION:
Sorry, I was reminded I did not answer the questions about what if one is not a hermit already. My only response here is that if one is not already a hermit in some essential sense (not in a formal sense necessarily), that is, if life and the grace of God have not already done their essential or fundamental work in this regard, one ought not to try and approach a diocese with regard to Canon 603. Canon 603 works for some people, and some vocations but not for all. If one is not a hermit in some essential sense already but feels drawn to solitude then they should either: 1) enter a community which DOES form people into hermits (Carthusians, Camaldolese, some Cistercian communities allow for this, Carmelite, etc), or 2) live the life of a lay person drawn to significant silence, solitude and prayer and see what eventuates (it COULD be Canon 603). Again, Canon 603 is not the only route one can take to be a hermit and for someone who is really drawn to the life, especially if they are younger, etc, entering a community may be the very best option besides lay eremitism.

1(a by ee cummings

It is spring (or almost so!) and Lent as well: a bittersweet and holy time of preparation for new growth and new life even as older things die away or fall by the wayside. This morning I found myself thinking of a poem by ee cummings, one of the most perfect poems I have ever read or seen. I wanted to share it here because in just four words (give or take!) it captures the bittersweetness of this time so very well, and, in its own way it captures the nature of the eremitical vocation too. Like a single raindrop, or a diamond culled from the earth it encapsulates the story of the cosmos. I would ask you to pay attention to every nuance in the orthography, the ambiguities in meaning, what cummings manages to suggest visually by his division and spacing of letters, what happens within and without the parentheses, etc. Remember too that in the original font the lower case L looked like a 1 -- something I tried to duplicate but which is unclear in the published version.



l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

So, when I read this poem I see two interrelated portions. Outside the parentheses there is: 1 (. . .) oneliness and this can also be read as loneliness. The section within the parentheses captures the fall of a leaf: "a leaf falls" with the visual zig-zagging or to-ing and fro-ing that might occur during such an event. The fall of the leaf points to an entire life cycle --- a cycle we each reprise as individuals. For ee cummings I think that "oneliness" or being "1" also points to integrity and integrity is a challenging and lonely business sometimes. It involves dying -- and for the hermit dying to self as well as living and dying "alone". Ultimately, however, every life is essentially solitary. For e.e. cummings a leaf is completely itself --- and so too are we each meant to be. This essential integrity as value, especially as it linked to love and the capacity for love (including love of God) seems to me to run throughout cummings' poetry. The beauty and simplicity of such a life is certainly captured amazingly well in this poem-as-snapshot.

Followup Questions on the time frame for becoming a diocesan hermit

[[Dear Sister O'Neal, you said that dioceses discern vocations, but don't form them. If a person is interested in becoming a diocesan hermit under their Bishop's supervision, what should they do? Also, what is the difference between living as a solitary person and living as a hermit in a conscious way? Can you say more about what you meant?]]



Yes, I would be happy to since I occasionally have people contact me wanting to be consecrated hermits and expecting their dioceses to put them through or provide them with some sort of formation program; at the very least some expect their dioceses to supervise their own formation, and they expect the time they put in on this to "count towards" profession or be an official process granting status in some way like novitiate or juniorates in religious life. While there may be a lone diocese out there that does things this way (I am certainly not betting on it!), generally that is not how Canon 603 works on the diocesan level. Canon 603 allows for the profession and consecration of diocesan hermits. It says nothing about forming them, etc, although other canons do apply to the life, just as they apply to religious life.

What tends to be true is that diocesan personnel, whether Vocation Directors or Vicars of Religious, do not concern themselves with the actual formation of hermits. As already noted, they are there to discern the nature and quality of the vocation that presents itself at their door. They will evaluate the person, their Rule of Life, their background, their psychological, spiritual, and other qualifications, and determine 1) whether the person has what it takes to live a healthy eremitical life, and 2) whether they are ALSO called to public profession, and are either ready for profession or can be so within a reasonable period of time. They may certainly ask the person to get more formation in one way and another, and they can suggest ways as well as assist in arranging for opportunities if the resources exist in the diocese, but that is not ordinarily their responsibility.

Therefore one really has to make the transition to lay hermit mainly apart from the diocese. (I am only going to refer to lay hermits here since religious who become hermits complicate the issue a bit); one needs to do so with one's own resources, the aid of one's spiritual director, pastor, and whomever else one knows who might assist in this. I need to think about this a bit more before I write much about it here, but this may be a large part of the actual formation to solitude a diocesan hermit ordinarily undergoes, a variation on the notion that if you persevere in your cell, your cell will teach you everything. In this case, however, the hermit will need to seek out appropriate education, information on and links to monastic or other eremitical traditions and representatives, regular spiritual direction, and they will need to come to really be lay hermits to some significant degree before they walk in the door of the nearest chancery with a petition re Canon 603 profession and consecration.

By the way, I do happen to believe that there should be resources available to dioceses so that strong candidates can get mentoring, etc, just as there once was with the desert Fathers and Mothers, and for this reason some of us Canon 603 hermits are trying to develop something that will serve these official candidates and their dioceses more directly, but for the most part one should not expect one's chancery (much less one's Bishop!) to oversee one's formation as a hermit. Not only do most diocese's chanceries not have the expertise for this, but they do not have the time. One will be disappointed if one does expect it, and yet, at the same time, one will find that if she approaches a diocese without sufficient background, neither will she be likely to be taken seriously as a candidate for Canon 603 profession in any case. This is the point when one is likely to rightly hear: "Just go off and live in solitude; it is all you need." As wrong as this advice CAN be, there are times when it is exactly correct too.

Living a Solitary Life vs Living as a Hermit:

Regarding the difference between living as a solitary person and living as a hermit in a conscious way, well, I can try to explain what I mean. For many people life itself will lead to solitary existence. In fact, for every hermit life will have led them to solitary existence in one way and another. This can be the result of chronic illness, bereavement, or other significant factors often only associated with the second half of life though they can, of course, happen any time at all. However, simply living alone does not make one a hermit, though one may be intrigued with the idea of it, and it might seem a perfect way to make sense of an otherwise absurd (meaningless) situation. Evenso, one has to transition to being a hermit in a more formal way, and eventually, to thinking of oneself as a lay hermit and committing oneself to live and serve the church and world in this way consciously.

Only then will one's identity and life be defined in terms of this vocation, and not the other way around. Only then will chronic illness, bereavement, or whatever the circumstances of one's life that brought one to this place cease to be the defining realities of one's life. They do not go away, but they assume a new place in terms of God's grace. Only when, and to the extent that they allow one to love in new ways rather than isolating one from others has one ceased to be a solitary person and become a hermit per se. The key here is certainly the place of Christ in one's life, but what this really implies in concrete ways must be evident before one can honestly say to anyone, much less in a public profession and consecration, "I am a hermit!"

One must not merely be solitary and slightly (or even very) pious. Silence must be the basic environment for one's life. Solitude itself must be a lifegiving context without which one is not nearly so human or loving (and it must be a communal reality spilling over in the love of others). Prayer must become central and definitive of who one is, and whatever negative life circumstances that initially brought one to solitary existence will be relativized and transformed by these. Everything one is and does must be dictated by one's sense of and commitment to this identity and call, and it takes time for this kind of conscious claiming to occur. It takes time for this to become more than playacting, and to feel like more than mere pretence. It does not happen with a single step, or the putting on of a particular kind of dress. But at some point, possibly long before the church herself does anything official in one's regard, one will look around, recognize and affirm to both herself and her God, "This is a hermitage, not an apartment, and I am a hermit, not merely a solitary person brought here by circumstances."

But, as important as this moment of realization is, it is still a long way from being prepared for profession as a diocesan hermit --- if, in fact, one should discern this is even what one is called to. However, it is a step which is necessary before one approaches their diocese to petition for admission to such profession, before one writes a Rule of life which others might also live by or read and be inspired by in regard to eremitical life, and it is a critical step which can signal readiness or approaching readiness for these. One does not make vows (private OR public) because one WANTS to be a hermit, nor does one write a Rule of Life they think they can live and live by. They do these things to reflect who they are, what actually inspires their day to day living as a hermit, and with an awareness on some level that these things mark their gift quality to the church and world. That is, the Rule is written not only to mark they way they DO live, and the values, spirituality, and theology that informs that life, but as an expression of the gift their own vocation is to the church and world. While this may not actually happen (Rules are not always read by others outside the chancery, etc), it SHOULD be sufficient to inspire others in various ways to allow their own solitudes, especially the unnatural ones, to be transformed into lifegiving realities by God's grace. It should be the Rule of Life of a hermit, not someone playing at being one, not one merely hoping one day to be one, but the Rule of Life of one who knows who she really IS. The same is true of the vows, whether private or public; they must be expressions of identity, not merely signals of aspirations.

Dioceses do not Form Hermits:

As your question indicates perhaps, the main thing that is likely to be unclear to people approaching dioceses in regard to Canon 603 is the whole notion that dioceses do not make or form hermits, they DISCERN the presence of a vocation and the appropriateness of and readiness for public profession and admission to the consecrated state. Every other vocation has a formal preparation and formation program; Canon 603 however, does not, and I would argue, probably cannot. (In fact, despite experiencing the whole diocesan process re C 603, I hadn't actually considered it myself in these terms before receiving a question recently asking how someone was to become a hermit under her Bishop's supervision if the diocese told her to come back after finding resources for them about this very thing!) This does NOT mean there is not a need for serious formation however!! The truth of course, is that one does not become a diocesan hermit in the way she supposed; one lives out the vocation one has already discerned herself and claimed in a fundamental way as her own, but now (especially if one is to be admitted to profession, etc) in mutual discernment with and direct obedience to one's own Bishop and with the substantial added ecclesial dimensions, rights, and responsibilites of the consecrated, publicly vowed state.

There is a wisdom in this if it is done right, and doing it right is a tricky business. One could say that one is not ready for genuine obedience or an ecclesial eremitical vocation until one has made this journey "alone" in a way which enables both authentic independence and lifegiving dependence in the process of listening to one's heart. I guess it is another interesting (and difficult) paradox: this particular journey requires assistance (regular spiritual direction, parish community support, the more remote supervision and discernment of the chancery in the secondary and later stages, and accountability at every point), but mostly it is an instance of eremitical life, and so must be essentially negotiated with God's grace alone. As Thomas Merton once said, "the door to solitude only opens from the inside." That is, solitude herself must open the  door to the would-be hermit. As Merton also said though, "Difficult mothers make hermits," and again he is correct: life itself in one way and another creates hermits. What I am saying is that life (including one's attentive and prayerful responses to difficulties and obstacles) and the grace of God creates diocesan hermits; while the diocesan discernment process gives added time for this to occur, and for the person to come to greater clarity and articulateness on the nature of her vocation, what remains fundamentally true is that the church discerns and mediates God's own call to consecrated life once this essential creation is already achieved.

This may not have adequately answered your questions, but I hope it is a start. What I have not described much here is 1) the need for formation and 2) how it is one "gets" what one needs in this regard. Some of this is hard to describe, significant as it is, because it deals with foundational inner experiences. In any case, as always, please get back to me if this raises more questions or fails to assist you adequately. Additional questions are helpful to me and, I hope, to other readers.

Questions on the Time Frame for Becoming a Diocesan Hermit.

[[Sister, I would like to become a diocesan hermit, but everything I have heard says it takes up to 10 years to make solemn or perpetual vows. One website says it can take much longer even. Do you think that is reasonable? If not, why not?]]

This is a timely question (really, no pun intended!), not least because I have received three different inquiries this last week alone about becoming a diocesan hermit, and a couple of them seemed a bit dismayed by the time frames which might be involved. Somewhere here I may once have said one should wait a year or two before approaching a diocese with their petition, and I want to clarify that as well lest anyone take it as carved in stone (or canon law!). Further, my own journey to perpetual eremitical profession took a very long time (23 years) and I have had time to reflect on that and both the benefits and drawbacks of such an inordinately long process. So, let me say that I think 9-10 years to reach perpetual profession is completely reasonable and that I would not generally support a process of less than 9 years. Why do I say that, even after my own long wait to reach such a position?

First of all, when one approaches a diocese it is not really with a request to BECOME a hermit, it is with a request to be professed as a diocesan hermit and admitted to the consecrated state of life. Dioceses are involved in discerning the vocation but generally not in forming one, and this will be true even if they decide a serious candidate needs more formation and refer them to various resources. One really needs to BE a hermit (not just a solitary person living alone) to some significant extent before approaching a diocese. This is especially true because at the point one approaches a diocese with such a petition, or very shortly thereafter, one will need to submit a Rule or Plan of Life, and such a Rule can only be written on the basis of experience of the life. All of this makes me suggest that one should live as a lay hermit for at least 2-3 years because that is the minimum most dioceses I know of demand before they will take a candidate seriously; my own belief is that one should do so for 3-5 years. I say this because only after such a period would someone generally be able to write the required Rule of Life in a way which allows the diocese to approve it and use it to discern the nature of the vocation in front of them. Also, I would therefore add that one needs to do all of this in a conscious and committed way under the regular direction of a spiritual director who knows one well.

I also am strong on or insistent about this idea of doing things consciously and in a committed way. There is simply a vast difference between "sliding" into a solitary life because the circumstances of life led one that way, and consciously living one's whole life as a hermit, whether lay or consecrated. If life has led one to solitary existence, one does need to make the transition to embracing eremitical life in a conscious way. Nothing is the same once this occurs, and I cannot stress this enough. The church recognizes both lay and consecrated hermits, and most people will move to consecrated eremitical life only after a period as a lay hermit (or, after a period in religious life). If we live this consciously, perhaps with private vows, perhaps not, we will also be in a position to decide down the line whether we are actually called to continue living as a lay hermit (the majority of hermits will always be lay) or move on to diocesan status and the charism that is associated with Canon 603 eremitical life specifically. This, because of the unique charism AND public vows involved, is an added bit of discernment which the candidate for C 603 profession should be clear on.

Next then, come the initial contact with the diocese, and assuming one is not immediately turned away but seems a viable candidate, the writing of the Rule of Life, the assessment of this (canonically, spiritually, etc), and the process of discernment that follows this. Again, this is likely to take at least 2-3 years, at which point (presuming they see no need for further initial formation or other special steps) the Vicars for Religious or Vocations personnel will make a recommendation to the Bishop. If their recommendation is positive, he will read everything, meet with the candidate several times over the following year or so, consider the needs of the diocese, the practical needs and provisions required for such a profession and the precedents it sets, etc. Once he has done all these things and more, he will make a decision about admission to profession under Canon 603. If the decision is positive, then there are canonical and practical requirements to be met by the candidate prior to profession. This whole process, from the point of actual contact with the diocese then through the Bishop's decision (if the process gets this far) can easily take 4 or more years; often it takes a good deal longer.

Ordinarily the penultimate step is the profession of temporary vows, and these are normally made for a period of three years. Discernment and continuing formation obviously proceeds even during this period, and at the end of this time, the hermit may ask to be admitted to perpetual vows and consecration or not. Personally, I think she may also decide to rewrite portions of her Plan or Rule of Life at this point, because she will find there are things she never addressed, dimensions of the life she understands in ways she never did before, etc. It is a good time to do this rewriting, partly because such writing helps one to consolidate the gains or growth they have achieved and claim more fully the vocation to diocesan eremitism. Even at this point perpetual profession is not assured of course, though it would take serious reasons to refuse it, I think. Still, as in all consecrated life, temporary profession remains a period of discernment for all involved.

The process I have outlined here takes anywhere from 9-12 years without serious delays, and I do not see ways of changing that significantly. As I look back on the shifts and changes my own vocation involved, I think 9-10 years to reach perpetual profession, and 6 or so years to reach temporary eremitical profession is a completely reasonable period, especially for a lay person who begins to live as a hermit just a couple of years prior to contacting the diocese. No, nothing should be prolonged unduly, nor should a person be left without support, regular contact, a sense that things are proceeding as they ought under diocesan supervision and so forth; dioceses themselves should have some flexibility and leeway to deal with exceptional candidates or circumstances appropriately, but generally, eremitical vocations are a function of time as well as circumstance and one cannot change this arbitrarily. If the person has already been a religious, has been through initial formation and prepared for or lived temporary vows already, then absolutely, the time frame (and sometimes, the stages) can be modified to accommodate this, but ordinarily the stages themselves will remain as outlined: 1) lay or other specifically eremitical experience, 2) petition and discernment by diocese and Bishop, 3) temporary profession, and 4) perpetual profession.

Solemnity of Saint Joseph: "To Live With the Spirit," by Jessica Powers

I used the blog space this was in to post a poem by Phyllis McGinley for St Patrick's day and am moving this here. It seems particularly appropriate to mark this Solemnity of St Joseph who did indeed quietly and unobtrusively listen to and live with the Holy Spirit, despite the risk and cost. (Icon by Nancy Oliphant)


To live with the Spirit of God is to be a listener.
It is to keep the vigil of mystery,
earthless and still.
One leans to catch the stirring of the Spirit,
strange as the wind's will.

The soul that walks where the wind of the Spirit blows
turns like a wandering weather-vane toward love.
It may lament like Job or Jeremiah,
echo the wounded hart, the mateless dove.
It may rejoice in the spaciousness of meadow
that emulates the freedom of the sky.
Always it walks in waylessness, unknowing;
it has cast down forever from its hand
the compass of the whither and the why.

To live with the Spirit of God is to be a lover.
It is becoming love, and like to Him
toward whom we strain with metaphors of creatures:
fire-sweep and water-rush and the wind's whim.
The soul is all activity, all silence;
and though it surges Godward to its goal,
it holds, as moving earth holds sleeping noonday,
the peace that is the listening of the soul.

(1949;1984, Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit, OCD)

Happy St Patrick's Day!

Patrick the Missioner, by Phyllis McGinley

Saint Patrick was a preacher
With honey in his throat.
They say he could charm away
A miser's dearest pence;
Could coax a feathered creature
To leave her nesting note
And fly from many a farm away
To hear his eloquence.

No Irishman was Patrick
According to the story.
The speech of Britain clung to him
(Or maybe it was Wales).
But, ah, for curving rhet'ric,
Angelic oratory,
What man could match a tongue to him
Among the clashing Gaels!

Let Patrick meet a Pagan
In Antrim or Wicklow,
He'd talk to him so reachingly,
So vehement would pray,
That Cul or Neall or Reagan
Would fling aside his bow
And beg the saint beseechingly
To christen himthat day.

He won the Necromancers,
The Bards, the country herds.
Chief Aengus rose and went with him
To bear his staff and bowl.
For such were all his answers
To disputatious words,
Who'd parry argument with him
Would end a shriven soul.

The angry Druids muttered
A curse upon his prayers.
The sought a spell for shattering
The marvels he had done.
But Patrick merely uttered
A better spell than theirs
And sent the Druids scattering
Like mist before the sun.

They vanished like the haze on
The plume of the fountain.
But still their scaly votaries
Were venomous at hand.
So three nights and days on
Tara's stony mountain
He thundered till those coteries
Of serpents fled the land.

Grown old but little meeker
At length he took his rest,
And centuries have listened, dumb,
To tales of his reknown.
For Ireland loves a speaker
So loves Saint Patrick best:
The only man in Christendom
Has talked the Irish down.

Everyone is Irish Today (even Saint Patrick)!

It does seem to be the case that everyone is Irish on St Patrick's day --- yes, even St Patrick who "converted Ireland to Christianity," and was originally from elsewhere in the British Isles. I admit to being mystified by the popularity of this holiday, by the "wearing of the green" by everyone, etc. But it is a holiday I myself love, and if it takes becoming Irish for a day to allow people to drop their differences, then that alone makes it a great holiday! I thought the above picture was terrific. Same with the dog and ducks, and Phyllis McGinley's poem. Enjoy!

Another Look at Humility from the Perspective of Matthew 23:1-12

Today's Gospel presents us with an analysis of the nature of humility and a reminder about its importance. This lection is concerned with the image of authentic humanity seen in contrast with the inauthentic humanity of the pharisees. Three things in particular struck me about humility as a result of today's gospel passage.

First, while most of us would say the antithesis of humility is pride, and today's gospel certainly portrays pride as a symptom of the lack of humility --- the pharisees love their special seating at the synagogues and places of honor at the banquets as well as their titles and elaborate religious garb --- pride is an aspect of a deeper reality. That deeper reality is the real opposite of humility; it is HYPOCRISY which means play-acting, pretending or dissembling. What the pharisees show us is that there is a kind of forgetfulness in this hypocrisy, a willingness to ignore some aspect of the truth about themselves and others and to play up (or deprecate) other aspects, or the persons as a whole. The pharisees are indeed guilty of pride, but it is a symptom of this deeper problem, this need to pretend and live a lie.

One thing today's Gospel makes clear (and we will hear the same thing in tomorrow's) is that this kind of pretense is always at someone else's expense. If we cannot be truthful about ourselves and accept the whole of ourselves in light of God's love for us, in light of the infinite dignity we possess as his own, neither will we be able to be truthful about others. Because we feel ashamed and threatened on some level, we will need to put others down or oppress them in some way. For the pharisees, treating religion as a means to status for themselves also means making sure others are seen as less religious or even irreligious. The burdens they tie up and impose on others which they then do not lift a finger to help them bear is the burden of religious law. As a result of some of these laws some people cannot worship with their brethren, some are by definition unclean, etc. Their very livelihoods prevent them from being Jews in good standing, so to speak. For them, religion is oppressive and a means of disempowerment. It denigrates rather then exalting and empowering.

It follows then that one of the central signs of a lack of humility (hypocrisy, pretence, dissembling, etc) is seeing others as competitors or rivals. For this reason Jesus directly opposes this with the notion that those who really follow him are brothers and sisters to one another, and have a vocation to serve, that is, a call to ease the burdens of our neighbors. We do that in many ways, but one of the most important is by giving these neighbors access to the life of Christ and his gospel, a life which supports them in their preciousness and allows them to live up to their potential and dignity as human beings. Ironically, the biggest bit of forgetfulness the pharisees are guilty of is how TRULY gifted they were --- they and everyone else. That is, they forgot that where God was concerned they were truly beggars; their whole selves are gifts of God, given at every moment, inspired by his breath, sustained with his mercy and love, and given every good gift from beyond themselves. To say one is gifted requires a giver of gifts, and to acknowledge true giftedness is also to admit one's dependence on the giver.

Secondly then, it is from an examination of its opposite, and also from looking to Jesus that we come to see humility as a loving truthfulness about ourselves, especially vis-a-vis God and others. To be humble requires an awareness and acceptance of who we really are, not just in terms of limitations, brokenness, sinfulness, and the like, but our strengths, talents, and gifts as well. This is true not only because simple awareness is important in the spiritual life and pretense is disastrous, but because this kind of awareness and acceptance allows us to really live for others. For the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of our brothers and sisters and with the knowledge that we are essentially no better nor worse than anyone else, we are free to work on our limitations, whether that be with therapy, spiritual direction, education, etc. And for the sake of our brothers and sisters and the building up of the kingdom we will be free to develop and use our gifts, talents, and strengths --- but not if we remain either reticent or embarrassed about admitting them, or if we claim them as our own possessions and the means to self-aggrandizement.

Thirdly then, we have to renounce the notion that humility is about self-denigration or self-deprecation. It is not about putting ourselves down, and particularly not in hypocritical or insincere ways. Humilty is not about a lack of self-esteem or feeling and operating out of a lack of personal dignity. Instead, humility is about being exalted in the truest sense, that is accepting our identities, our preciousness and dignity in God, letting him lift us up from the dust of the earth and breath into us a spirit which sets us apart from the rest of creation making us uniquely gifted for the sake of the whole of his creation. Humility allows our greatest truth to be the fact that God is continually merciful to us, continually regards us as and makes us precious, continually loves us beyond and in spite of anything unworthy of his love in a way which makes us the very result of that love.

Genuine humilty recognizes and accepts both dimensions of our lives, the limitations and sinfulness, AND the giftedness and strengths, particularly since the latter do not come from us, but from the giver of all gifts. It is for this reason that other signs or symptoms of a lack of humility besides pride, competitiveness, and rivalry include false modesty, perfectionism (a lack of honesty about our own giftedness and its imperfection), a lack of self-esteem and all the actions that come with these. Embracing the whole truth of ourselves is both freeing and empowering. Not least it opens us to accept and use God's gifts (for which we need no longer be ashamed or self-conscious) on an ongoing basis. (After all, it is not easy to be rescued or saved, but for the humble person, it is the simple fact of who they are and who they will continue to be.) Further, it allows us to accept others for who they are as well, neither threatened by their gifts nor repulsed by their limitations and weakness. This empowers us to really be brothers and sisters to one another, and to serve as best we can.

We should always bear in mind that the word humility comes from the Latin, humus, which means earth or ground or soil. Humility reflects several senses of this word: 1) it recalls that we are creatures made from the dust of the earth, but also spirit-breathed, inspired beings with an innate dignity which is incomparable to any other creatures we yet know. 2) humility is the soil out of which all other virtues grow. It is akin to the good soil in the parable of the soils which allows the Word of God to take root and grow deeply and lastingly without being stunted or distorted while we proclaim it boldly with our very lives, and 3) it is indeed the ground of our salvation in the sense that it is the precondition, the loving truthfulness necessary for receiving fully the gift of salvation.

One final word on the last line of today's Gospel. We might be tempted to read this line as punitive (or alternately implying reward): if we lift ourselves up, God will knock us down, whereas if we denigrate ourselves, God will exalt that and us as a reward. I think this is a serious misreading of the line. What Jesus (via Matthew) is giving us here is the PARADOX of humility: if you are honest about yourself and who you really are, God's work to gift you will bear incredible fruit. His Word within you will be ABLE to exalt you further and further and make you even more who you are called to be. You will truly be God-breathed or inspired dust of the earth, and your inheritance will be eternal. If, on the other hand, you are unable to admit or accept the truth of yourself God's loving mercy will not be able to find a place to grow in you and will not bear fruit in abundance. If, and to whatever extent you cannot be gifted by and dependent upon God, then life and death will eventually take whatever status you have enjoyed away from you, and you will return to the dust of the earth as nothing more lasting than that.

Followup Questions on the usefulness of the division into "TCW" and "MCW"

Sister, I wanted to ask a followup question on the division between "Temporal Catholic World" and "Mystical Catholic World". The person writing about these things suggests that MCW is less suited to canonical status, and other ties with the Temporal Catholic World and more suited to mystical prayer, Communion with God, non-canonical status, etc. Now some of this makes sense to me. Maybe a hermit does not want to be linked to a public vocation, nor to deal with the hierarchical church, or wear a habit, recognizable liturgical clothes, etc. Maybe she feels called to a more hidden life, or to mystical prayer that cuts her off from community or parish life. In such a case wouldn't it be true that she is called more to the "MCW"?]]

In a word, not least because there is no such thing as a mystical Catholic world which is separate from and in conflict with the "temporal Catholic world," no. First, EVERY hermit is called to live her vocation in the temporal world. The Church has categories which fully allow for the different configurations of the eremitical life a person may be called to live. For instance, there is the basic distinction between lay and consecrated eremitical life which takes care of most of the issues you raise in your question. At the most basic level, over time a hermit needs to discern whether she is called to live a private lay eremitical life, or a public vocation to the consecrated state. Ordinarily every hermit who does not belong to a religious congregation begins as a lay hermit and lives that life for several to a number of years before being able to petition to be admitted to public profession and consecration under C 603. The discernment undergone here is the discernment to remain within the lay state or to seek something else. However, none of this has to do with whether one is called to mystical or contemplative prayer and communion with God, etc. EVERY hermit, whether lay or consecrated, is called to these to some extent and they are called to them within the temporal Catholic world.

If the hermit does not desire to deal with the hierarchical church then it is pretty likely she is not called to consecrated life. However, not all diocesan hermits wear habits or cowls; these matters are worked out with the hermit's Bishop and diocese. My own encouraged (or at least highly esteemed the choice to wear) the habit though it was my choice, but they required the cowl or other prayer garment along with a profession ring. While I usually wear a habit I do not always do so, nor am I required to. Sometimes I use jeans with a Benedictine (black) or Camaldolese (white) work tunic and sometimes without (the tunic also works with the habit, either with or without the veil, so is quite versatile and tremendously practical). The point is that even those who wish not to wear a habit CAN be diocesan so long as the Bishop agrees with the arrangement. (The cowl or other prayer garment is more and more a required matter though.)

One problem your own question points out is the notion that if one is called to contemplative union with God or to mystical prayer, then they are less likely to be called to canonical status. Now, I think that would be an amazing thing if it were true, for it implies that those relatively rare individuals professed under canon 603 cannot adequately live out a vocation to communion with God, intense contemplative or even mystical prayer. Simply because a vocation is public does not mean it is notorious, nor does public in this context conflict with hiddenness. A public vocation can be every bit as hidden as a private vocation. On the other hand, a private vocation itself can become quite notorious if the person is unstable, eccentric in the common sense of that term, etc. Here public and private do not mean notoriety or lack thereof; they mean, as I have noted before, a public identity, a vocation officially lived in the name of the Church, as opposed to a private one lived in one's own name. Do we really want to say that canonical hermits are less called to contemplative or mystical prayer, union with God, etc, simply because their vocations are canonically public ones, or because they may even imply some degree of ministry outside the hermitage? I certainly don't think so.

The Church's own categories are far more adequate for the question you raised. One may become a lay hermit, or one may become a canonical hermit. The first is an essentially private vocation and would certainly be appropriate for one who did not want to deal with the hierchical church. It would, however, also witness to lay persons in the abnormal solitudes they find themselves as the result of society, loss, grief, bereavement, chronic illness, and the like. The second involves accepting a public identity in the Church, and a commission to live out one's vocation for the rest of her life with integrity and fidelity. It involves vows of poverty, consecrated celibacy, and obedience, and yes, it implies superiors, a clear relationship with the institutional church and a special relationship with one's Bishop and those he delegates to serve as superiors for the hermit. One is bound legally and morally to live out the Rule of Life one has composed, to embody the elements constitutive of the eremitical life according to canon 603 and one's Rule, all in the name of the Church and in direct responsibility to one's parish and diocese. While the canonical or diocesan hermit also witnesses to those in unnatural solitudes and reminds them of the redemption possible, she may or may not find that the lay hermit can actually do this better in a given situation.

I understand the idea of mystical prayer "cutting a hermit off from community or parish life" (more about that in the next paragraph below) so let me speak to that last portion of your question. Every hermit must obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit and it may well be that for a time the call to mystical prayer requires greater reclusion than at other times. My own experience tells me that these times are temporary and further, that they spill over into times when one must return to her parish community and serve them in a more direct way. However, canonical status does not prevent greater degrees of reclusion to accommodate mystical or contemplative prayer. What it does do is make sure the individual hermit is properly directed, and remains aware of the ecclesial context of her vocation (which includes community even in reclusion). If a hermit feels called to complete reclusion for the sake of such prayer, Canon 603 allows for this, so long as the person can support and care for herself still. However, let's be clear that Canon 603 status will also make sure that responsible parties (including the hermit herself) make sure the prayer is genuine, that the person is not running from social responsibilities, or suffering from some sort of psychological or emotional problem related to her solitude and silence, etc. Beyond this, canon 603 status will ensure that a call to mystical prayer and relative reclusion is verified and carefully nutured. Far from being a hinderance to such a vocation, Canon 603 status would assist the hermit here.

One very important point must be made here: it is not a matter of contemplative or mystical prayer cutting a person off from community, but of embedding them within and relating them to the community in a different way than is ordinarily recognized. As I have written before, communion with God implies communion with those who are also grounded in Him. Communion with him implies communion with all he cherishes. Further, mystical prayer is always an act of love and it involves not just the pray-er and her God, but all those whom (or that) God loves as well. In actual mystical prayer experiences one is also aware that even while one is alone dancing with God (or whatever images or experiences are involved), all those he loves are being perfectly cared for at the same time; one is glad and grateful for it, and it is part of what one celebrates with him. This experience exists simultaneously with the sense that God loves you as though no one else existed and that you have his complete and undivided attention. It is a fantastic paradox, and an awesome experience -- characteristic, in my experience, of true mystical prayer.

I recently read a quote by a Cistercian monk, Armand Veilleaux, OCSO, which says pretty much the very same thing: "...An authentic contemplative life does not consist in withdrawing from reality to live in an artificial or purely spiritual world. It consists in withdrawing to the center, to the heart of all reality. A healthy community life helps us to evaluate with serenity the varied information that we receive, the different events through which we live."

On a less universal level, in my own hermitage I keep a basket next to the tabernacle and in that basket go all the intentions I am asked to pray for. People know that I am praying for them and their intentions, and they feel linked to my prayer. My very reclusion (or at least my solitude) marks me as deeply involved in their lives and the lives of those they love and are concerned for. I do not retire to the hermitage to get away from my community, but to live for them in a different way. It is thus a solitude they sometimes share in consciously even while my activities are completely hidden from them. Because of these and other reasons I have already mentioned in the previous post, I would definitely reject the notion that authentic contemplative or mystical prayer cuts one off from the community, and I would affirm instead that when it is genuine it does just the opposite.

So, the bottom line as far as I am concerned? The division into temporal and mystical Catholic worlds in specious and creates problems --- both practical, spiritual, and theological. The Church already divides eremitical vocations into lay and consecrated (I am prescinding from referring to clerical hermits deliberately just for this post), and that is completely adequate, even while it avoids the problems associated with the other division into TCW and MCW. I think if you use the church's own division as you reflect on the things which caused your question you will find it is a completely adequate division for you too.

As always, if this raises further questions, or is inadequate in some way, please get back to me. Thanks.

Ash Wednesday, Lent 2009

Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris

We used to use this quotation during the imposition of ashes. Today we tend to use, "Turn from your sin and be faithful to the Gospel." Whichever one we prefer, today is a sobering day with readings which stop us in midstride from our usual ill and unconsidered comings and goings, and ask us who we really are and more, who will we be? It is the perfect way to begin a prolonged period of introspection and recommitment --- both of which are the focus of Lent.

Lent is the period where we regain perspective and commit ourselves to reality from the long-view of someone who knows we are usually too short-sighted and too caught up in all that distracts us from seeing or loving properly. It is a holy season and a genuine gift, because it gives us the graced space and time to do that which our world does not ordinarily provide: the space and time to examine our hearts and lives, the space and time to consider and begin to attend to what still cripples us as human beings, what prevents us from loving as we ought and as we are called by God to do; the space and time to listen anew and with minds and hearts made for this listening and, with the grace of God, to decide to change, to be better and truer persons --- not just richer or more successful, better educated or better employed or whatever is usually compelling to us --- but better and truer human beings.

The value of any gift of such time is usually inestimable, but the gift of this time and space, this season of introspection and recommitment, is more intensely and profoundly so. My own prayer is that we will each receive it fully and use it well.

Followup questions on story, fundamentalism vs atheism, etc

[[Dear Sister, thank you for your posts on story. I have heard Genesis called mythical before, but I was unclear why scholars thought that was a good thing and not a harmful one. I especially never heard before that taking such stories literally could actually be the most harmful thing we can do. It was interesting to hear you put creationists and atheists in the same box here. So here are my questions. Do all stories in the Bible work in the same way? Are you saying that creationists and atheists misread the Bible in the same way? Are these two really more related than not? What is it they are both missing with regard to the stories in the Bible?]]

Some stories in the Bible are more historical (and that is true in the later chapters of Genesis as well), but yes, they challenge us in SOME of the same ways I outlined in the earlier posts. Especially they challenge us to identify in one way and another with the characters and problems involved and make decisions on where we will stand as a result in our own world; they can stand temporarily as a space where we can explore ourselves, etc, but generally they do not ask for the same kind of suspension of disbelief I described before. However, two kinds of Scriptural stories especially work in the way I outlined: myths, and parables (especially Jesus' parables which are completely unique to him in the history of literature).

Both are especially good at providing a space where we can enter in and leave our own world behind (so to speak) for the time being, but only so we can return with our own hearts and minds changed in some way and engage that world differently as a result. One of the ways you will see that Jesus' parables differ from myth per se is that they draw us in, disorient us, and then, demand that we make a choice which reorients us, either to the world as we ordinarily understand it, or toward the Kingdom of God. They are more active or directed in this dynamic than myth per se; further, because they are less fantastic than myth they demand not so much a suspension of disbelief as a renunciation of belief. I will not repeat more of what I have written in the past about parables, but I would suggest if you have not read them, you check out the pieces on Thematic Aperception Tests and Parables, or, the Parable of the Good Samaritan for a more detailed explanation of the way Jesus' parables in particular work. They are tagged, so you can find them in the list of labels at the right hand side of the blog.

Yes, I am saying that creationists and some atheists (there are different kinds) do tend to read the myths of Genesis' primordial history in the same way. Both take these stories literally, and make them ridiculous in the process. The creationists read the stories as explanations not only of a sovereign creator God, but as descriptions of the way he creates. They rule out evolution (micro and macro), ongoing creation, a world which is moving towards perfection or fulfillment rather than (merely) falling away from it, etc. As a result they make faith look like an anti-intellectual act of people afraid of truth instead of a deeply intelligent act worthy of humanity and the profound mysteriousness of the cosmos. They do something similar with God, who is invariably treated as A BEING rather than as the ground and source of all being and meaning. Atheists do the same, but they do so in order to justify a lack or even refusal of faith, the transcendent, and the like. They do so in order to denigrate believers and belief, but also to castigate the parodies of God naive believers so often put forward --- itself a much more legitimate enterprise than is sometimes recognized. So yes, despite apparent differences, these two groups of people often have more in common than they have differences.

What both of these groups of people miss is the fact that stories are sophisticated even sacramental vehicles for encountering truth, and this is especially true of myth or the mythical elements in stories. Both groups treat literal truth as contrary to profound truth which needs to be conveyed with myth and the bending and shaping of the literal. Both forget how story functions in our lives. They treat these things as childish, something to be outgrown, rather than understanding how entering into stories allows for growth in transcendence. (Watch a child being read to and imagine the explosions of transcendence going on in her mind and heart as she places herself in the story and internalizes what she hears!)

They do this in different ways: the creationist, for instance, absolutizes elements in the narrative as literal or historical in the modern sense and loses contact with the depth dimension of the story. Thus when faced with scientific data regarding evolution, the age of the world, etc, they must deny these things; when told by other believers the stories of creation function as myth, their faith is threatened unnecessarily and they cannot see the deeper truths embodied as only story can do. The atheists on the other hand opt for the data of science as far superior to what can be conveyed in story and if told the account is mythical, dismiss it as nonsense or fiction on ALL levels. Both underestimate truth (its scope and mystery) and the God who grounds and is the source of all truth, but they do this especially by forgetting how story functions, and how human beings are by nature story-telling beings not because they are unsophisticated or primitive, but precisely because they are sophisticated and capable of transcendence and communion.

More on Story (Myth) and the Tower of Babel, Friday of Week Six in Ordinary Time

Just this morning I wrote a reflection on the ways stories function especially in regard to yesterday's readings. I had not been to Mass yet, nor had I prepared today's reading ahead of time when I wrote that piece. Otherwise I might have saved my comments, or written about the first readings from yesterday and today. The story of the building of the city, the construction of the Tower of Babel, the coming down of God from heaven to scatter people and confuse their language is without a doubt one of the best examples of what I spoke about in the last post: stories create spaces in which we can explore complex realities by suspending disbelief, etc. What I barely mentioned in that post but which is made even clearer in today's is the fact that stories give profound explanations to or analyses of deep and complex realities it would take thousands and thousands of words to even attempt otherwise.



Dissertations could well be written on the nature of human sinfulness, the problem of pride and the need to make a name for ourselves at the expense of our own humanity, the insatiable, almost innate drive for control and power human beings seem to evidence, the reasons for diverse languages, the power of united peoples speaking the same language, the fact of tribal and national divisions and enmities which have plagued us from the beginning of mankind are still with us despite the sense that we are a global community (not really a new insight according to today's first reading!), the fact that beneath our external differences we are really one, or the idea that our very creativity, initiative, and inventiveness --- indeed, even our very religion --- becomes our downfall time and again which God must save or protect us from. And yet, in the space of two paragraphs or so, the authors of Genesis have captured all of this from a theological perspective which is insightful and compelling --- so long as we do not read the story literally, but let it function precisely as stories are wont to do.

Read literally, the story would be ridiculous: A people, in an attempt to secure and make a name for themselves, build a city and a tower which truly reaches to heaven. God, apparently threatened by this act of hubris, and after coming down to earth to examine the whole project, throws down the tower and city, confuses the language so that a concerted effort at some greater project cannot be made, scatters the people, etc in what is an attempt to save them from even worse pride and presumption. Towers which reach to heaven? A God who comes down to survey the project only to return to heaven and cast the whole human reality in disarray? The notion that all spoke one language only to have God turn it into relative babble because he was threatened by their unity? None of this makes much sense to us, but again, stories function on levels deeper than the literal facts. When we are dealing with stories that do this in the precise way this one does, we are dealing with myth, that is, we are dealing not with a fictional story, but with a story that tells us profound truths that can really be told in no other way. The literal truth is relatively unimportant, and if we insist on this (the literal truth) we can actually miss the profound truths we are being asked to consider and embrace.

Today's first reading is the story of sin, not the story of a particular sin (though pride is dominant) so much as the story of all sin. Human beings are made for more than they have here. We are really made for nothing less than communion with God, and --- through his grace and our own inspired assistance --- for the participation in the perfection or fulfillment of the world. We are created capable of this, capable of cooperating with (receiving) grace, which accounts for our own great giftedness, our abilities to dream, love, create, build, compose, order, etc. These are the undistorted verbs of stewardship. Of course, unfortunately, our very made-for quality also testifies to incompleteness and separation from God, and our very separation from what we are meant for makes us long for more, just as it makes us insecure in our world. And, when we try to achieve what we are made for through our own efforts, those undistorted verbs of stewardship are rapidly transformed into the distorted verbs of domination and destruction.

Instead of allowing God to be the source of any name (i.e., any personal reality and presence) we have --- instead, that is, of glorifying (revealing) God in all we do --- we seek to make a name for ourselves. We seek to build a way to heaven, to rejoin (bind back to) God on our own terms, and of course, to stand higher and dominate the rest of creation in the process. We seek to secure ourselves atthe word literally means those who bind back) rather than faithful people, people who receive all they have as gift. And, as today's story tells us, it is pride which is at the heart of this whole process, a kind of forgetfulness about the source of our giftedness and capacities and the misconstrual of these things as our very own.

Of course, the story in today's first reading deals with more than I have dealt with here, and more effectively as well, precisely because it IS narrrative, it IS story, it is myth in the proper sense of that word. If you noticed your responses to my own analysis of the theology of this story you might have found yourself saying, "No, you can't use the term religion like that!" or "How can she play faith off against religion like that?!" or any number of other things. You were likely unwilling to suspend disbelief long enough to explore these things (though I hope some will think about them over time!). My comments may have challenged you in one way and another, but the story in today's first reading more easily allowed as well as challenged you to locate yourself in the story, to suspend judgment and to feel these people's insecurity, to comment on the validity or invalidity of their efforts at building their cities and towers for your own edification, to dream of a world where everyone speaks the same language and tribal, religious, and national protectiveness, distinction, and isolation is at an end. It allowed you to recognize your own pride, the times you have acted in ways which might have "made God take a second, closer look (or come right down from heaven to check out the situation)," and perhaps even yearn for God to intervene in a way which protected you from yourself. In short, it allowed you to envision and even make a choice for the Kingdom of God and the fulfillment of creation therein without even necessarily knowing (in these terms, anyway) that was precisely what you were doing.

The stories in the first eleven chapters of Genesis are primordial history, not history as we use that term today, and certainly not science! They are mythical, not so much merely fictional or untrue as profoundly and powerfully true in ways which are often ineffable apart from narrative. Again, they create shared space in which we can suspend disbelief, bias, etc, and enter in to explore, reflect, pray over, etc. But we will miss all this unless we take the time to consider how it is that such stories work. In the last couple of days we have gotten a terrific lesson in this with the stories of Noah and the flood, the post-flood actions of God, and the story of the tower of Babel. Given all the recent stuff out on atheism and creationism (both of which read these narratives literally, and so, superficially and tendentiously!) it is a timely lesson, I think.

On the way Stories Function: Thursday Readings, Week Six of Ordinary Time

I have been thinking about yesterday's readings. Remember, they are the post-flood story of Noah's family, and of God determining to be faithful and merciful to humankind despite their continuing sinfulness, and the story of Peter's proclamation of Jesus as the Christ which is followed by his rejection of the notion that Jesus, precisely as Christ, would have to suffer and die shamefully, ignominiously. Both stories have at their core people grappling with a changing concept of God, and the realization especially that God's faithfulness and mercy is greater than anything which human categories of justice, etc, will allow them to imagine otherwise.

What was especially striking to me was the way the first reading functions precisely as story. I have always been troubled by the notion of a God who changes his mind. Though stories involving this kind of apparent theological "nightmare" are prevalent in the OT, they were really troublesome for me at some points. What I came to see with a new freshness and power in regard to yesterday's first reading from Genesis was that this story functions in all the amazing and wonderful ways stories usually function. One need not see the details as literally true to understand what is being said or why. In fact, understanding the story as literally true may prevent one from hearing what is being said, or appreciating in a deep way how the story really functions!

The first thing we must realize about stories is that they create spaces where we can engage a world which is different from the one we ordinarily inhabit, and this includes different thoughtworlds --- inner worlds where beliefs and theologies differ, as well as seeing the material world around us through different persepectives and categories of understanding. Stories are places where we can enter in, suspend disbelief (or belief), intolerance, and biases (to whatever limited degree), and rub shoulders with ideas and characters we might neither have nor allow ourselves the freedom to experience otherwise. Stories, especially Scriptural stories, are the privileged spaces we can enter in order to entertain new possibilities for understanding God, ourselves, and our world. Similarly, they function as interfaces between worlds and world views, narratives which are told to break down barriers and create a SHARED space with others whose notions of the world might be radically different than our own. The storyteller is deadly serious in her purposes, and at the same time, completely free to bend and shape her material in order to invite the revisioning she wants to bring about.

And all this is what is happening in yesterday's first reading. Jews are telling a story in a world where everyone believes that God sends floods and other natural disasters as a judgment on human sinfulness; every natural disaster reinforces this sense. Over time this people have come to realize that their God is different than this. Instead he is faithful and committed to them no matter what they actually do, or in what ways they sin against him and others. They have come to see that their God does NOT abandon or destroy them but enters into covenant with them, and he will reaffirm this covenant again and again.(The climax of this growing insight is found in Ezekiel, where God reveals he does not act merely for our sake, but for his own. When people have sinned in every way possible and can never deserve God's love it is the ground of the surest kind of hope.) At the same time sin is serious business; the Jews know it is not merely dismissed, but that it effects all of creation and God's plans for it. They know too that sin is a costly matter for God himself. So, in a world where God's justice is still understood in a retributive or distributive way how do you get people to realize this is not the case? More, how do you get them not only to change their mind about this, but come to believe in a God whose hallmarks are creative mercy and fidelity? How do you get them to imagine a world where sin is taken seriously in a way which is costly to God while balancing these other foundational insights as well?

Well, you tell a story. The story of a God who does not take sin as a matter of course and could and should destroy the world because of it. The story of a God who continually creates not only out of primordial chaos, but also out of the chaos caused by human sinfulness, cosmic disorder, and even a local flood. The story of a God who is meciful and generous enough to "change his mind" so that creative mercy and faithfulness may win out.(God's change of mind also "saves face" for those who believe God is just in an all-too-human way still.) You tell the story of a God whose justice is not retributive, nor a matter of giving us what we deserve, but a matter of giving us what he wills and, in fact, what we can never deserve. A God who exercises sovereignty not with destructive power and threats, but with a love which is inexhaustible and creative, and with promises that this love will always be there for his own. We might be tempted to get hung up on the theological problems: a God who changes his mind is one of the big ones, for instance. How can God promise fidelity and yet be changeable? But if we realize the way a story functions we will let these kinds of details lead us instead to what is far more significant and challenging:

Will you allow your conception of God be stretched and changed? How about your concept of divine justice: will you accept a God whose justice IS his mercy, and who does not balance justice with mercy or vice versa? Will you participate in God's ongoing creation as stewards of the process? Will you enter into a covenant with this God in whose image you are made and whose covenant promise is part of the very promise of your own life? Will you not only enter into a covenant with this God but be the embodiment of a covenant which stands behind the whole of creation, and which is especially clear in the relationship between human beings and God? Will you allow God to be one whose sovereignty is revealed as self-emptying love and mercy, not a coercive power which threatens or intimidates? Will the irony of a God who is big enough to change his mind in the face of human sinfulness and intransigence help you to realize that it is God who is unchangingly faithful, and human beings who need to be big enough to change their minds and hearts? Can you believe any of these things? Commit yourself to any of them? Hear any of them as the good news they are? And if not, why not? Stories give us time for this kind of reflection, this kind of consideration --- without coercion or judgment.

The Gospel account yesterday does something similar. It describes the affirmation of a certain vision of God, a certain kind of Christhood or Messiahship and then justaposes an altogether more problematical vision, bigger, more challenging --- indeed, challenging in ways which would shake even the theology of the Jewish disciples to the roots: a God who is not only not a distant and uncaring judge, not only a God who cares about his creation and is committed to a costly faithful and merciful love of it, but a God who will enter right into the world as completely as he can and suffer and die the most shameful death imaginable for its redemption! Peter is the foil in this story. We watch and cheer him on as he echoes our faith (FINALLY!). We watch in silence as he voices our own unvoiced doubts about the necessity of Jesus' crucifixion and death, our own embarrassing concerns about the propriety of a God who loves so much as to die for us while we are yet sinners without first demanding repentance from us! We know deep down that his story is our own: for we too have a faith which only goes so far and is constantly challenged to be open to a less merely-human notion of God, a more awesome and unimaginable deity; we too are someone whose heart is dual, whose love is inadequate, and whose understanding is partial at best.

At liturgy we share these stories precisely because they are our heritage, but also because they call us to imagine and make our own something greater than we have yet accepted. They provide the space for hearing, reflecting, criticizing or applauding, accepting or rejecting a God who is ever greater than any we have yet TRULY known. In short, they are sacramental realities which become occasions of obedience, and we hope, the obedience of faith, for we cannot approach the altar otherwise. The challenge is to hear these stories not as "mere" stories, but as stories which function as only stories can by doing all the awesome things stories do; the challenge is not to insist on hearing them literally or dismissing them because they sound like theological nonsense at this point or that, but instead to recognize they are the privileged places where God resides and comes to meet us if only we will suspend disbelief (and all-too-human-belief) and enter in for a time.

St Bernard of Clairvaux on the Relation of Active and Contemplative in the Spiritual Life

I recently wrote a couple of posts decrying the auntithetical division into contemplative vs active, temporal vs mystical, but in writing them I didn't cite anyone really to support my positions. This morning I began reading an essay by Martin Smith, SSJE, entitled "Contemplation and Action in the pastoral Theology of St Bernard." It is from a lovely collection of essays on St Bernard, called, The Influence of St Bernard, and is published by the Sisters of the Love of God, Fairacres Press.

The point of the essay is to demonstrate how intimately related and dependent upon one another contemplation and action really are in the thought of St Bernard for the development of the capacity to love and live fully, the capacity, that is, to be all that we are called to be. Some of the essay deals with the problem of monastic life vs life in the world (especially with regard to a monk called to be Pope!), but most of it deals with the tricky balancing of active and contemplative dimensions in the monastery itself. What Bernard concludes again and again is that these two realities require each other. They are not really conflicting or antithetical realities, but instead need and come to fulfillment only in relation to one another. Especially, Bernard sees clearly, contemplation finds its completion in pastoral zeal and fervor which then itself leads back to contemplation. Most importantly, Bernard understands that God himself calls to activity as the natural fruit and completion of contemplation and vice versa. He writes:

[[ After this Divine look, so full of condescension and goodness, comes a voice sweetly and gently presenting to the mind the Will of God; and this is no other than Love itself. which cannot remain in leisure [contemplative withdrawal], soliciting and persuading to the fulfillment of the things that are of God. Thus the Bride hears that she is to arise and hasten, no doubt to work for the good of souls. This is indeed a property of true and pure contemplation, that it sometimes fills the mind, which it has vehemently inflamed with divine fire, with a fervor and desire to gain for God others to love Him in like manner and to that end willingly lays aside the leisure of contemplation for the labor of preaching. . . . And again, when it has attained the object desired, to a certain extent, it returns with the more eagerness to that contemplation, in that it remembers it laid it aside for the sake of more fruit.]] (Sermon 57 on the Song of Songs)

None of this means there is not tension between the two, nor "psychological suspense and misgiving," as Smith puts the matter. There is. Always. Contemplatives know this, and so too do those involved mainly in apostolic ministry. And yet, just as we cannot ignore either of the two essential forms of relatedness (to God and others) which are foundational for genuine humanity, or the intrinsic relation they bear to one another --- especially in the name of a self-absorbed and selfish 'contemplation,' or a soulless activism that lacks a contemplative underpinning and telos --- neither can we ignore the intrinsic relatedness of contemplation and action. It is the two together which witness to the authenticity of either dimension alone, and it is the two together which make us true contemplatives and mystics.

"This Trackless Solitude" by Jessica Powers

Perhaps on Valentine's day there are many poems of Jessica Powers which could be used to signal the love which is the hermit's and which calls to all of us, whatever our vocation, but I think the following one is lovely. Romantic love, wonderful as it is, is a shadow and sacrament of a love which is even deeper and summons us from within; in this poem Sister Miriam captures this beautifully.


Deep in the soul the acres lie
of virgin lands, of sacred wood
where waits the Spirit. Each soul bears
this trackless solitude.

The Voice invites, implores in vain
the fearful and the unaware;
but she who heeds and enters in
finds ultimate wisdom there.

The Spirit lights the way for her;
bramble and brush are pushed apart.
He lures her into wilderness
but to rejoice her heart.

Beneath the glistening foliage
the fruit of love hangs always near,
the one immortal fruit; He is
or, tasted: He is here.

Love leads and she surrenders to
His will, His waylessness of grace.
She speaks no word save His, nor moves
until He marks the place.

Hence all her paths are mystery,
passaging a Divine unknown.
Her only light is in the creed
that she is not alone.

The soul that wanders, Spirit led,
becomes, in His transforming shade,
the secret that she was, in God,
before the world was made.

(1984)