Feast of the Exaltation (or Triumph) of the Cross (Reprise)

[[Could you write something about Sunday's (Tuesday's) feast of the Exaltation of the Cross? What is a truly healthy and yet deeply spiritual way to exalt the Cross in our personal lives, and in the world at large (that is, supporting those bearing their crosses while not supporting the evil that often causes the destruction and pain that our brothers and sisters are called to endure due to sinful social structures?]]

The above question which arrived by email was the result of reading some of my posts, mainly those on victim soul theology, the Pauline theology of the Cross, and some earlier ones having to do with the permissive will of God. For that reason my answer presupposes much of what I wrote in those and I will try not to be too repetitive. First of all, in answering the question, I think it is helpful to remember the alternative name of this feast, namely, the Triumph of the Cross. For me personally this is a "better" name, and yet, it is a deeply paradoxical one, just like its alternative.


(Crucifix in Ambo of Cathedral of Christ the Light; Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, or Cathedral Sunday in the Diocese of Oakland)


How many times have we heard it suggested that Christians ought not wear crosses around their necks as jewelry any more than they should wear tiny images of electric chairs, medieval racks or other symbols of torture and death? Similarly, how many times has it been said that making jewelry of the cross trivializes what happened there? There is a great deal of truth in these objections, and in similar ones! On the one hand the cross points to the slaughter by torture of hundreds of thousands of people by an oppressive state. More individually it points to the slaughter by torture of an innocent man in order to appease a rowdy religious crowd by an individual of troubled but dishonest conscience, one who put "the supposed greater good" before the innocence of this single victim.

And of course there were collaborators in this slaughter: the religious establishment, disciples who were either too cowardly to stand up for their beliefs, or those who actively betrayed this man who had loved them and called them to a life of greater abundance (and personal risk) than they had ever known before. If we are going to appreciate the triumph of the cross, if we are going to exalt it as Christians do and should, then we cannot forget this aspect of it. Especially we cannot forget that much that happened here was NOT THE WILL OF GOD, nor that generally the perpetrators were not cooperating with that will! The cross was the triumph of God over sin and sinful godless death, but it was ALSO a sinful and godless human (and societal!) act of murder by torture. (In fact one could argue it was a true divine triumph ONLY because it was also these all-too-human things.) Both aspects exist in tension with each other, as they do in ALL of God's victories in our world. It is this tension our jewelry and other crucifixes embody: they are miniature instruments of torture, yes, but also symbols of God's ultimate triumph over the powers of sin and death with which humans are so intimately entangled and complicit.

In our own lives there are crosses, burdens which are the result of societal and personal sin which we must bear responsibly and creatively. That means not only that we cannot shirk them, but also that we bear them with all the asistance that God puts into our hands. Especially it means allowing God to assist us in the carrying of this cross. To really exalt the cross of Christ is to honor all that God did with and made of the very worst that human beings could do to another human being. To exalt in our own personal crosses means, at the very least, to allow God to transform them with his presence. That is the way we truly exalt the Cross: we allow it to become the way in which God enters our lives, the passion that breaks us open, makes us completely vulnerable, and urges us to embrace or let God embrace us in a way which comforts, sustains, and even transfigures the whole face of our lives.

If we are able to do this, then the Cross does indeed triumph. Suffering does not. Pain does not. Neither will our lives be defined in terms of these things despite their very real presence. What I think needs to be especially clear is that the exaltation of the cross has to do with what was made possible in light of the combination of awful and humanly engineered torment, and the grace of God. Sin abounded but grace abounded all the more. Does this mean we invite suffering so that "grace may abound all the more?" Well, Paul's clear answer to that question was, "By no means!" How about tolerating suffering when we can do something about it? What about remaining in an abusive relationship, or refusing medical treatment which would ease mental and physical pain, for instance? Do we treat these as crosses we MUST bear? Do we allow ourselves to become complicit in the abuse or the destructive effects of pain and physical or mental illness? I think the general answer is no, of course not.

That means we must look for ways to allow God's grace to triumph, while the triumph of grace ALWAYS results in greater human freedom and authentic functioning. Discerning what is necessary and what will REALLY be an exaltation of the cross in our own lives means determining and acting on the ways freedom from bondage and more authentic humanity can be achieved. Ordinarily this will mean medical treatment; or it will mean moving out of the abusive situation. In ALL cases it means remaining open to and dependent upon God and to what he desires for our lives IN SPITE of the limitations and suffering inherent in them. This is what Jesus did, and what made his cross salvific. This openness and responsiveness to God and what he will do with our lives is, as I have said many times before, what the Scriptures called obedience. Let me be clear: the will of God in ANY situation is that we remain open to him and that authentic humanity be achieved. We MUST do whatever it is that allows us to not close off to God, and to remain open to growth AS HUMAN. If our pain dehumanizes, then we must act in ways which changes that. If our lives cease to reflect the grace of God (and this means fails to be a joyfilled, free, fruitful, loving, genuinely human life) then we must act in ways which change that.

The same is true in society more generally. We must act in ways which open others TO THE GRACE OF GOD. Yes, suffering does this, but this hardly means we simply tell people to pray, grin, and bear it ---- much less allow the oppressive structures to stay in place! As the gospels tell us, "the poor you will always have with you" but this hardly means doing nothing to relieve poverty! Similarly we will always have suffering with us on this side of death, and especially the suffering that comes when human beings institutionalize their own sinful drives and actions. What is essential is that the Cross of Christ is exalted, that the Cross of Christ triumphs in our lives and society, not simply that individual crosses remain or that we exalt them (especially when they are the result of human engineering and sin)! And, as I have written before, to allow Christ's Cross to triumph is to allow the grace of God to transform all the dark and meaningless places with his presence, light and love. It is ONLY in this way that we truly "make up for what is lacking in the passion of Christ."

The paradox in Sunday's Feast is that the exaltation of the Cross implies suffering, and stresses that the cross empowers the ability to suffer well, but at the same time points to a freedom the world cannot grant --- a freedom in which we both transcend and transform suffering because of a victory Christ has won over the powers of sin and death which are built right into our lives and in the structures of this world. Thus, we cannot ever collude with the powers of this world; we must always be sure we are acting in complicity with the grace of God instead. Sometimes this means accepting the suffering that comes our way (or encouraging and supporting others in doing so of course), but never for its own sake. If our (or their) suffering does not result in greater human authenticity, greater freedom from bondage, greater joy and true peace, then it is not suffering which exalts the Cross of Christ. If it does not in some way transform and subvert the structures of this world which oppress and destroy, then it does not express the triumph of Jesus' Cross, nor are we really participating in THAT Cross in embracing our own.

I am certain I have not completely answered your question, but for now this will need to suffice. My thanks for you patience. If you have other questions which can assist me to do a better job, I would very much appreciate them. Again, thanks for your emails.

Questions and Suggestions

[[Hi Sister,
Do you still want questions and suggestions about things we would like to see here? Your earlier post on this had a deadline.]]

Hi there!
Sure, yes. I am actually always interested in suggestions or questions, especially having to do with spirituality generally or eremitical life more particularly. I am also sure that while some questions recur again and again, others are never posed at all. I know that I may do a good job with some aspects of eremitical life, but that there are things I am not clear about and some that I never even consider writing about. Hearing what people think or want to hear, or what is confusing, troubling, or just a matter of curiosity is helpful to me.

The deadline in the earlier post had mainly to do with the fact that I was on my way to retreat soon and wanted to have things in hand before that. However, like most retreats God takes us where s/he wants to, and it is rarely where we propose we should go! So, while I had writing to do "in case", and a project for after retreat (which is ongoing), the deadlines proposed in the earlier post were not absolute. Again then, yes please send on questions and suggestions. They are always welcome and, once more, very helpful to me personally.

On the title "Catholic Hermit" (Response to Question)

[[Dear Sister, I am a lay hermit. I have read blogs by other lay (privately professed and consecrated) hermits who call themselves Catholic Hermits and also online comments by a canonist saying this is improper. I am Catholic and a hermit. Why aren't I a "Catholic Hermit"?]]

Hi there,
I have written about this before so please check for these under the labels in the right hand column, but the bottom line answer (and something I did not originally mention in the pertinent post) is that the importance of being officially commissioned to live, act, or minister in the name of the Church is addressed in canon law. One is prohibited from calling oneself a Catholic hermit, religious, etc, unless specifically authorized to do so. Let me begin there and then explain the reasoning for this.

Canon 216 states that any person may adopt apostolic activity through their own undertaking as appropriate to their own state and condition in life, but no such undertaking will adopt the name Catholic without the express consent of the competent ecclesiastical authority. What this means for you is that you may indeed live as a lay hermit without further permission; your baptism gives you this right and responsibility if you discern God is calling you to this. But you do this in your own name, not in the name of the Church for the Church has not been involved in the discernment or the mediation of such a vocation. Similarly then, you do not publicly represent the eremitical vocation on behalf of the Church, for the Church has not publicly accepted your commitment and commissioned you to do so. In other words you have not been commissioned to live eremitical life in the name of the Church. You DO represent the lay vocation on behalf of the Church and your own eremitical vocation is a part or expression of this.

Canon 216 may have been formulated to deal with new groups wishing to become religious institutes (though this is handled by C 300 which also limits the use of the term Catholic), but it works as well for hermits too. (By the way, it also works for theologians. Some of us are theologians while others with a specific commission from the Church have a right to the title "Catholic Theologian." Such a "missio" can be withdrawn and the person no longer has the right to call him or herself a Catholic theologian. One cannot, on one's own initiative, then, call oneself a Catholic Theologian simply because one is a theologian and a Catholic, for instance.) The reasoning, I think, is sound even if one is doing Catholic theology without a missio: One must be doing what one does in the sense the Church uses the term and with her formal approbation. We must be acting in her name when we use the qualifier "Catholic". Otherwise almost anyone could call themselves a Catholic theologian, or a Catholic Community/Congregation, etc and, unless they were working in academia, there would be no oversight at all --- and the meaning of the terms could be lost in the process. (Note well though:  because one has not been given the right to call herself a Catholic theologian in no way indicates the person is anything other than profoundly Catholic IN her theology. It simply means she is not doing theology in the name of the Church with an actual formal commission or mandatum and all these entail or require.)

With regard to hermits, I think this reasoning is especially sound. We have people experimenting with all different degrees and expressions of solitary life. Only some are authentic life vocations. Some are transitional paths which are primarily therapeutic, for instance; others are attempts to build appropriate degrees of solitude into an active or apostolically oriented life, but are not really essentially eremitical. Some experiments are done by married people, some by those who really desire to live in community but have not been able to make that happen, and some are merely the choice of isolation (not eremitical solitude) by those who have been unable to succeed at life and whose motivations and lives are far from those the Church necessarily associates with Catholic hermits. Some bear no real resemblance to eremitical life at all, and only some are inspired by the Holy Spirit in a way which gives them lasting value. Only a few, therefore, fulfill all the requirements the church affirms should be absolutely characteristic of eremitical life in the Church --- and this includes the significant mutual discernment and mediation of the vocation which includes a public calling, consecration, and commissioning by ecclesiastical authorities and the acceptance of this by the hermit herself in a corresponding public act of dedication (profession).

The vocation of the Catholic Hermit therefore also includes embracing all the rights and obligations of such a commitment because this life is understood to be a gift to the Church and world given by the Holy Spirit, and one must consciously and publicly undertake the commitment to live out this charism (gift) as gift with integrity. (I think there is a huge difference between living a life because it works for me, and living a life because it is itself a gift of the Holy Spirit to Church and world. In my own eremitical commitment, for instance, a significant focus for reflection is on precisely the way this specific life is charismatic and meant to be lived for the good of church and world, and not simply on "what works for me". It continues to challenge and console me every single day, but it is NOT something I appreciated clearly before perpetual profession under Canon 603. I think this gift of appreciation is a piece of the grace that comes with profession. The reflection is certainly part of the commission of the diocesan hermit. My Bishop indicated this in his homily during the profession Mass when he noted for the assembly that I would be exploring what contemporary hermit-life meant and should look like.) For all these reasons then, it is these rare instances that the Church affirms with consecration by allowing public profession under Canon 603 (or under Canons governing religious eremitical life) and signals with the descriptive term "Catholic Hermit."

As noted in my prior post then, the term Catholic Hermit is applied to those who are canonically constituted and consecrated as hermits. It is applied to religious hermits as well as to those who have entered the consecrated state via Canon 603 and are examples of consecrated solitary eremitical life in the Church. These latter are persons whose entire life is publicly defined in terms of the central elements of the Canon, and the way they live these elements out is supervised by ecclesiastical authorities. As also noted in the earlier post then, parishioners and members of the dioceses where these persons live and are professed are allowed, necessarily, to have certain expectations of them which they are not necessarily allowed to have with regard to the lay hermit living some form of solitude in her own name (that is, privately). The key word in all of this is 'necessarily,' because public profession is linked to legal rights and responsibilities which are publicly assumed. It absolutely does NOT mean the diocesan hermit is a better hermit than the lay hermit, but merely that they each have assumed different rights and obligations; some (the lay or non-canonical hermits) have assumed those that come with and from baptism alone, while others (canonical hermits) assume rights and obligations that come from both baptism and public (canonical) profession and consecration.

I hope this helps. As always, if it raises more questions or is unclear, please get back to me. Also do check the labels below for related posts. Some will be repetitive and some will approach from a different perspective. They also may raise more questions.

Avatar!

Friday night and I had a date! Well, not exactly, of course, but for my Birthday (the 1st) I went with a friend from quartets and orchestra to see the extended 3D version of Avatar. To engage in complete understatement, "WOW!"! I was completely blown away! Bill had seen it three times before but not the extended version. I had only heard about it from Sr Marietta, and knew it was about incarnation in some sense, and focused some on the idea of "seeing" and knowing the true person, but I didn't know much more than that. While I knew there was a Christ figure I knew nothing about him mediating (literally) between two different worlds (a definite parallel to the Kingdoms of God and an anti- Kingdom of man and the one who works to reconcile them), or about a world which was so completely grounded in God it had achieved a kind of sentience. (We Christians talk a lot about the day when this world will come to fulfillment and God will be all in all. I felt like I had seen a symbolic representation of this in Avatar.) I don't intend either to analyze or review the film (I am in no position to do either), but I do want to note some of the other symbols I thought were prominent in it.

References to The People recalled not only the Apache and other Native Americans, but also the chosen People of Judaism and the Body of Christ of Christianity --- people who become One in communion with God and/or with the earth. Then there are the trees in this film: the Home Tree and the Tree of Souls and it is through these that there is communion with those who have died (Christian Communion of Saints) as well as rebirth or resurrection (death in one form and re-embodiment in another). While the industrialists and military complex bulldoze these (or blow them to smithereens with missiles) they proclaim "they're just trees!" ("It's just a tree",". . . just a cross", ". . .just something we can get good food from," etc. . .). The notion of stewardship, of cultivating an attitude of reverence and gratitude for everything --- of actually living reverence and gratitude in everything --- as one realizes (in every sense of that word) the interrelatedness of all life is real and prominent.

And linked to this way of living is the notion of responsible or authentic freedom. Jake Sculley is a wounded, paralyzed veteran, who takes his brother's place in the Avatar program (a program which allows the combining of his twin's and the Na'vi's DNA to create a host or Avatar which can move amongst and interact with the Na'vi), but as an Avatar he moves freely and with increasing strength and grace in ways he never imagined possible as he becomes attuned to this new world and the opportunity he has been given. The world he leaves (and carries with him) is the world of science (at its best and worst) and objective measurement ("I've got to get a sample!"), mere utility and exploitation, and so, isolation where who Jake is is measured more by what he can or cannot do than by who he is in himself. It is the world where people are largely blind to the mystery that is right in front of them (scientists begin to get a clue here that this goes way beyond anything they can get their minds around!) and where, if only he can pay the price, he can get his old legs back.

The world he moves into is akin to the world of prayer (a whole other kind of original research with a whole new way of seeing!), a world of both immanence and transcendence where individual potential is always greater than the individual herself precisely because of the communion linking all things. Here Jake does not get his old legs back. He gets a new body, and is reminded early on and quite forcefully that he is but an ignorant child in its regard. Over time he learns to use that body to respond to and participate in a new vision of reality --- just as over time he learns to "see with new eyes" or "with the eyes of his heart," and to not trample upon this new world as swine trample pearls. I loved that this was a world whose characteristic values were vision, reverence, and celebration, but in light of these authentic freedom ("the power to be the persons we are called to be") was also primary.

There is tragedy aplenty in this movie seen in the truly wonton and greedy destruction of the unappreciated and unreverenced, but also and not least, in the conclusion of the People to send the humans back to their dying world with the judgment, perhaps, that they cannot "be cured of their insanity." It is too deeply ingrained, too pervasive and destructive --- and too strongly clung to. Only a handful are offered the chance to stay as the others leave this new world. "Many are called, but few are chosen," Christians will be reminded --- and it becomes clear that part of being chosen is the responsibility to make the choice ourselves and to really and fully become part of the People body, soul, heart and mind.

So all this was one level of the movie for me. There was also the sheer beauty of it all, the really dramatic scenery with "floating mountains", etc, the colors --- especially the nighttime colors full of fluorescent and iridescent greens, blues, and pinks, animals that were both wonderfully fragile and full of light, and those which were huge, powerful, and capable of great violence, flying saurians (reminiscent at least) which bonded with members of the People (Na'vi), etc. It was absolutely wonderful visually, stunning again and again --- so much so that one would need to see the move several times to take it all in.

My own celebration of my birthday and anniversary of profession extended for three days and ended with Avatar (well, I think it ended there; one never can tell). It was outstanding in so many ways (the people in my parish are so wonderful and celebrated with me and so did friends from my quartet, the orchestra, etc --- another several stories!), but this will surely be a high point. If you haven't already and get the chance to see Avatar, do so. If you get a chance to see it again (or even yet again) do it! Consider it an exercise in Lectio Divina --- not because it needs this justification, but because this is how it should be approached --- as something capable of mediating the transcendent and holy which can "speak a Word" of reminder, challenge, and encouragement to us in our need and our potential!

The Laborers in the Vineyard 2

When I hear today's Gospel and the parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard I almost always have something triggered in me. Today, for whatever reason, I thought of the TV series Star Trek Next Generation. In the episode I am thinking of Captain Picard is explaining to a financier from the 21st C. that in the 24th C they have done away with want. (The man had died, was put in a cryogenic chamber and launched into space; whatever killed him can now be healed and he is "awakened" by Doctor Crusher along with a couple of other characters --- it takes some suspension of disbelief, but it's a good yarn.) Three hundred years have gone by and despite the wonders set before him (including a new chance at life), all this guy can think of is the money he left behind and all the compound interest which would have accrued --- along with the power this would all broker. He is desperate to get hold of his bankers or financial managers, or whatever! Never mind that all of that has ceased to exist! So here he is, faced with all sorts of new possibilities in a world which has done away with poverty or want and which offers him the freedom to be (almost) anything he wants. Of course, this necessarily means they have also done away with greed (for money, power, etc) as well -- and this is the loss which is most challenging to Picard's unexpected guest.

We know that the statistics for our society tell us that the numbers of billionaires is rising. At the same time the number of the impoverished is growing alarmingly. The gap between the haves and have-nots just gets bigger all the time. And we know that one is a function of the other: in a world with finite resources greed ensures that some will go without. When power is a function of wealth the situation is exacerbated because the poor also become voiceless and powerless, and so, if we are to insure a world of limited resources where poverty and want are ended, greed will also need to be ended. I think it therefore also means working in order to be fulfilled as persons, in order to gain just from the fact of working, in order to share with others, and in a way which takes care of need and allows others who must work less, for whatever reason, to have all they need to truly live as fully as possible. Benedictines will recognize this as a very monastic approach to reality.

But the need to accrue, to measure ourselves according to how much we have done or how long we have worked is very deeply ingrained in us, and so too, whether we recognize it or not, is the tendency to exclude and diminish those who cannot give of themselves in the same way or to the same extent. The parable from today's Gospel underscores this and our tendency to judge others on their failure to measure up similarly. Laborers are hired at various times of the day. All agree to the daily wage, but when the time comes for payment, those who worked the whole day through the noonday sun grumble when those who worked only a portion of the day are paid first and given the same wage. The parable says almost nothing about why people only hire on later (as they note in response to the neutral question about their idleness, no one has hired them!) but it is typical to find people attributing motives nonetheless: Lazy sluggards, they were hanging about the middle of town drinking! What losers, this crew has no ambition! Probably were just praying no one would hire them! I'll bet these folks were on the public dole! Rarely do we hear someone lamenting that these people have not been given a chance to fulfill themselves as persons, to give to the community as they can and need to, to garner some small level of self-esteem. Rarely do we wonder if perhaps it is the entire value system that is skewed and dehumanizing.

But in fact, that is one of the things today's parable would like us to conclude. At the very least Jesus' story criticizes "business as usual" and suggests that the way justice is done in the Kingdom of God is very different than in the world we all know so well. It also suggests then that the way we do justice should be different here and now --- if, that is, the Kingdom of God is truly among us! If we are to end poverty in all its forms, then we must also end greed in all of its forms. If we recognize we are part of a reign where ALL payment is gift and everyone is given precisely what she requires (and always more than we can earn or merit) then our efforts can go into helping others accept the gifts God offers. We may even achieve some restructuring of our own society. In short, acceptance, compassion, and generosity become the measures of real achievement. Like the financier in the Star Trek NG episode it takes a complete reordering of standards and vision, but the parable asks nothing less from us, I think.

The Laborers in the Vineyard 1 (Reprise)

Today's Gospel is one of my all-time favorite parables, that of the laborers in the vineyard. The story is simple --- deceptively so in fact: workers come to work in the vineyard at various parts of the day all having contracted with the master of the vineyard to work for a day's wages. Some therefore work the whole day, some are brought in to work only half a day, and some are hired only when the master comes for them at the end of the day. When time comes to pay everyone what they are owed those who came in to work last are paid first and receive a full day's wages. Those who came in to work first expect to be paid more than these and are disappointed and begin complaining when they are given the same wage as those paid first. The response of the master reminds them that he has paid them what they contracted for, nothing less, and then asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own money. A saying is added: [in the Kingdom of God] the first shall be last and the last first.

Now, it is important to remember what the word parable means in appreciating what Jesus is actually doing with this story and seeing how it challenges us today. The word parable, as I have written before, comes from two Greek words, para meaning alongside of and balein, meaning to throw down. What Jesus does is to throw down first one set of values, one well-understood or common perspective, and allow people to get comfortable with that. (It is one they understand best so often Jesus merely needs to suggest it while his hearers fill in the rest. For instance he mentions a sower, or a vineyard and people fill in the details. Today he might well speak of a a CEO in an office, or a mother on a run to pick up kids from a swim meet or soccer practice.) Then, he throws down a second set of values or a second way of seeing reality which disorients and gets his hearers off-balance. This second set of values or new perspective is that of the Kingdom of God. Those who listen have to make a decision. (The purpose of the parable is not only to present the choice, but to engage the reader/hearer and shake them up or disorient them a bit so that a choice for something new can (and hopefully will) be made.) Either Jesus' hearers will reaffirm the common values or perspective or they will choose the values and perspective of the Kingdom of God. The second perspective, that of the Kingdom is often counterintuitive, ostensibly foolish or offensive, and never a matter of "common sense". To choose it --- and therefore to choose Jesus and the God he reveals --- ordinarily puts one in a place which is countercultural and often apparently ridiculous.

So what happens in today's Gospel? Again, Jesus tells a story about a vineyard and a master hiring workers. His readers know this world well and despite Jesus stating specifically that each man hired contracts for the same wage, common sense says that is unfair and the master MUST pay the later workers less than he pays those who came early to the fields and worked through the heat of the noonday sun. And of course, this is precisely what the early workers complain about to the master. It is precisely what most of US would complain about in our own workplaces if someone hired after us got more money, for instance, or if someone with a high school diploma got the same pay and benefit package as someone with a doctorate --- never mind that we agreed to this package! The same is true in terms of religion: "I spent my WHOLE life serving the Lord. I was baptized as an infant and went to Catholic schools from grade school through college and this upstart convert who has never done anything at all at the parish gets the Pastoral Associate job? No Way!! No FAIR!!" From our everyday perspective this would be a cogent objection and Jesus' insistence that all receive the same wage, not to mention that he seems to rub it in by calling the last hired to be paid first (i.e., the normal order of the Kingdom), is simply shocking.

And yet the master brings up two points which turn everything around: 1) he has paid everyone exactly what they contracted for --- a point which stops the complaints for the time being, and 2) he asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own gifts or money. He then reminds his hearers that the first shall be last, and the last first in the Kingdom of God. If someone was making these remarks to us in response to cries of "unfair" it would bring us up short, wouldn't it? If we were already a bit disoriented by a pay master who changed the rules of commonsense disbursal this would no doubt underscore the situation. It might also cause us to take a long look at ourselves and the values by which we live our lives. We might ask ourselves if the values and standards of the Kingdom are really SO different than those we operate by everyday of our lives, not to mention, do we really want to "buy into" this Kingdom if the rewards are really parcelled out in this way, even for people less "gifted" and less "committed" than we consider ourselves! Of course, we might not phrase things so bluntly. If we are honest, we will begin to see more than our own brilliance, giftedness, or commitedness; we might begin to see these along with a deep neediness, a persistent and genuine fear at the cost involved in accepting this "Kingdom" instead of the world we know and have accommodated ourselves to so well.

We might consider too, and carefully, that the Kingdom is not an otherwordly heaven, but that it is the realm of God's sovereignty which, especially in Christ, interpenetrates this world, and is actually the goal and perfection of this world; when we do, the dilemma before us gets even sharper. There is no real room for opting for this world's values now in the hope that those "other Kingdomly values" only kick in after death! All that render to Caesar stuff is actually a bit of a joke if we think we can divvy things up neatly and comfortably (I am sure Jesus was asking for the gift of one's whole self and nothing less when he made this statement!), because after all, what REALLY belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God? No, no compromises are really allowed with today's parable, no easy blending of the vast discrepancy between the realm of God's sovereignty and the world which is ordered to greed, competition, self-aggrandizement and hypocrisy, nor therefore, to the choice Jesus puts before us.

So, what side will we come down on after all this disorientation and shaking up? I know that every time I hear this parable it touches a place in me (yet another one!!) that resents the values and standards of the Kingdom and that desires I measure things VERY differently indeed. It may be a part of me that resists the idea that everything I have and am is God's gift, even if I worked hard in cooperating with that (my very capacity and willingness to cooperate are ALSO gifts of God!). It may be a part of me that looks down my nose at this person or that and considers myself better in some way (smarter, more gifted, a harder worker, stronger, more faithful, born to a better class of parents, etc, etc). It may be part of me that resents another's wage or benefits despite the fact that I am not really in need of more myself. It may even be a part of me that resents my own weakness and inabilities, my own illness and incapacities which lead me to despise the preciousness and value of my life and his own way of valuing it which is God's gift to me and to the world. I am socialized in this first-world-culture and there is no doubt that it resides deeply and pervasively within me contending always for the Kingdom of God's sovereignty in my heart and living. I suspect this is true for most of us, and that today's Gospel challenges us to make a renewed choice for the Kingdom in yet another way or to another more profound or extensive degree.

For Christians every day is gift and we are given precisely what we need to live fully and with real integrity if only we will choose to accept it. We are precious to God, and this is often hard to really accept, but neither more nor less precious than the person standing in the grocery store line ahead of us or folded dirty and dishelveled behind a begging sign on the street corner near our bank or outside our favorite coffee shop. The wage we have agreed to (or been offered) is the gift of God's very self along with his judgment that we are indeed precious, and so, the free and abundant but cruciform life of a shared history and destiny with that same God whose characteristic way of being is kenotic. He pours himself out with equal abandon for each of us whether we have served him our whole lives or only just met him this afternoon. He does so whether we are well and whole, or broken and feeble. And he asks us to do the same, to pour ourselves out similarly both for his own sake and for the sake of his creation-made-to-be God's Kingdom.

To do so means to decide for his reign now and tomorrow and the day after that; it means to accept his gift of Self as fully as he wills to give it, and it therefore means to listen to him and his Word so that we MAY be able to decide and order our lives appropriately in his gratuitous love and mercy. The parable in today's Gospel is a gift which makes this possible --- if only we would allow it to work as Jesus empowers and wills it!

Feast of the Assumption

Today is the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin so perhaps it is a good idea to look, at least briefly, at what assumption actually means.

With the Feast of the Ascension we noted that Jesus as the Christ continues his bodily existence now in the heart of the God's own life. With all the other feasts we celebrate with regard to Christ we celebrate God's coming among us, God's self-emptying, God's limiting of self in ways which allows him to be present with us offering us his life and love and risking our rejection of those gifts. But with the Ascension God begins the process of taking into himself the Christ and all that is made a new creation in Christ. The many mansions are prepared and with the Ascension the extreme paradox of bodily existence in the heart of God's own self begins. It is first instance of the climax towards which all of creation yearns and groans, the beginning of God's own "fulfillment" as he becomes all in all.

The Feast of the Assumption continues this movement of the new creation into the very life of God's self, movement into God's own heart. Today we celebrate the fact that Mary, Mother of the Word incarnate, exists body and soul in the heart of God. She, despite death (or "dormition") is indeed a citizen of heaven (the very life of God) and is universally available to us as Sister and Mother. She has, through the grace of God, achieved the goal which is our own, the goal of all creation in Christ, the goal of resurrection and judgment, and so we celebrate that achievement for it means that God's own purposes are coming to fulfillment, and his creation is coming to perfection in him. We celebrate for Mary, we celebrate for God and his Christ, we celebrate for ourselves and all of creation.

Memorial of Edith Stein, St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Virgin and Martyr

Today marks the day on which Sister Teresa Benedicta, OCD, was martyred in 1942.

"We bow down before the testimony of the life and death of Edith Stein, an outstanding daughter of Israel and at the same time a daughter of the Carmelite Order, Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, a personality who united within her rich life a dramatic synthesis of our century. It was the synthesis of a history full of deep wounds that are still hurting ... and also the synthesis of the full truth about man. All this came together in a single heart that remained restless and unfulfilled until it finally found rest in God." These were the words of Pope John Paul II when he beatified Edith Stein in Cologne on 1 May 1987.

Sister Teresa Bendicta was, by all accounts, a brilliant philosopher. Of Jewish parentage, she was academically gifted throughout her life. She studied under Edmund Husserl the celebrated phenomenologist at a time when women were rare in this field, and in fact worked as his assistant. She received her PhD, Summa Cum Laude (with highest honor). Subsequently she established herself as philosopher, translator, and writer, and then, after turning to Christianity, sought the greater solitude of the Carmelite Order. When WW II broke out she transferred from a Carmel in Cologne to another house (Echt) in neutral Holland so that her Sisters might be protected from Nazi persecution due to her presence.

When the Bishops in the Netherlands protested the removal of Jewish children from Catholic schools and the transportation of Jews to the concentration camps, the Nazis retaliated and arrested all Catholic Jews in Holland. Sister Benedicta, who could have escaped this fate, went with them as a sign of personal solidarity with her people and a witness to Christian love and solidarity as well. The Carmelite was taken to Auschwitz where she died on 09.Aug.1942 in the gas chambers there. As noted, she was beatified on 01.May.1987, canonized on 11.Oct.1998, and remains a witness to the triumph of the cross of Christ, in her thought, writing, piety, and above all, in her living and dying in the hope of Christ.

For a good biography of Sr Teresa Benedicta, try Edith Stein, The Life of a Philosopher and Carmelite, by Teresa Renata Posselt, OCD, ICS Publications. Posselt was the Novice Mistress and then the Mother Prioress when Edith Stein lived at the Cologne Carmel. The text has been reprinted and enlarged with scholarly perspectives published in separate "gleanings" sections, so they are available, but do not intrude on Posselt's text.

Another excellent biography you might check out is, Edith Stein, A Biography by Waltraud Herbstrith, OCD, Harper and Row. Sister Herbstrith knew Edith Stein well and has apparently spent a large part of her life making sure the story of Sister Benedicta's life and martyrdom was completely told.

Feast of the Transfiguration (Mainly Reprised from 2009)

I am reprising this (with some additions at the end) because it really does speak to the themes I have touched on recently, especially in terms of reference to the recent lections. I hate missing posting on significant feasts, and I really could write nothing better for this one this year! Thanks for giving it another look.

Throughout the past few weeks the daily readings, especially in the Gospel of Matthew have echoed the refrain: "And there is something greater here than (Solomon, the Temple, Moses, Elijah, etc). . ." whenever Jesus speaks of himself. In today's Gospel we have an illustration of this refrain when Jesus is transfigured in front of some of his disciples (Peter, James, and John). Following this Elijah and Moses appear and converse with Jesus. Peter, terrified and "hardly knowing what to say" exclaims, "Rabbi, it is good that we are here!" and then suggests that they make three tents, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Following this suggestion the mountain is covered by cloud, and there is a voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to Him." Moses and Elijah have disappeared and we are told that the disciples "no longer saw anyone but Jesus alone with them." They are warned to say nothing of these events until after the resurrection from the dead, and though they do not really understand what resurrection means --- or even who Jesus really is in all its implications, they do indeed understand that right here with them in One who, though continuous with the rest of their history, is greater than Solomon, the Temple, Elijah, Moses, etc.

The ability to see what is really present despite outward appearance is a challenge to all of us. To see Christ in the neighbor, sometimes to see Christ in ourselves, to see the presence of God in a world it is much easier to castigate as evil or profane, to find that ours is a creation where heaven and earth interpenetrate one another in a significant way especially in light of Christ --- all of these are parts of the challenge today's Gospel puts before us. Further, to see that our God comes to us in weakness and ordinariness is part of that same challenge. And yet, we are a people called to recognize and embody this presence wherever we go. These are the two sides of the command to obedience: recognize (hear, see, taste, etc) and embody this for others. Rooted deeply within us by virtue of our baptism, there is something greater here than Solomon, Moses, or the Temple or the Decalogue --- a Wisdom and Love which transcends them all and marks us as disciples. If we can take seriously the vocation to live this out in a way which allows our more prosaic existence and being to be transfigured in the power and presence of God, we will begin to understand the challenge and imagery of today's Gospel: "This is my beloved Son. Listen to Him!"

My best wishes especially to my Camaldolese Sisters at Transfiguration Monastery in Windsor, NY. on this Feast Day. As Benedictines they take seriously the call to obedience as the challenge to recognize and embody God in the ordinariness of every day which epitomizes Christian Life. I also pray that all of us are open to the Transfiguration of selfhood which God calls us to daily. The light of such existence is brilliant, and lifegiving to all who experience it. It is the life of those who have "caught up" with the fact that the stone has been rolled away and live from and in that new reality!

Questions on Becoming a Diocesan Hermit

Hi Sister Laurel! I am . . .from the Philippines. I am a reader of your blog, and I am just amazed with your life. . . . So, my questions are, 1. how does one start the process of becoming a diocesan hermit, let say after living a eremitic life after some years. How does he approach the bishop? And what if the bishop is not supportive, should he give up his vocation. 2. I understand that there are hermits who live in the urban area. What could be the best explanation if someone asks why he's not in the desert or in the forest? 3.How does one support himself? Is he allowed to work? What kinds of work? . . .]]

Hi there!
Assuming one has lived an eremitical life for some time (a few years as you say and under the direction of a competent spiritual director), one would contact the chancery and ask to speak to the Vicar for Religious or the Vicar for Consecrated Life. Sometimes the Vocation Director will be the person one will first speak to. In my experience one does not speak to the Bishop immediately. This can differ from diocese to diocese, but in my own diocese it is only once the Vicar(s) are prepared to recommend a person for profession that the Bishop actually enters the picture. At that point discernment continues and the Bishop will meet with the person several times usually, read their Rule and anything else that is pertinent, and make a decision.

At this point a person may be admitted to temporary profession or not. Further, the decision can take some time (including time working with Vicars, etc). Several years is not unusual. Even once the Bishop has received the recommendation the process may take a couple to several years more. If the Bishop is not supportive one should not give up "on his vocation." If one is clear that one is called to live an eremitical life then one can continue to do so as a lay hermit, for instance. The Church badly needs the witness of lay men and women who live authentic solitude in a world that militates against it in every possible way. In time the Bishop's position may change, sometimes because the Church's experience of diocesan hermits is increasing and because other Bishops have found the vocation significant in their own dioceses, sometimes because the lay hermit's persistence is edifying and helps clarify doubts or concerns. In time too, the aspirant's experience may lead him away from solitude. What is important is that one follow one's heart (and that means the call of God to be yourself) as well as one is able.

Bearing in mind that there have been urban hermits ("urbani" (etc) as well as anchorites who lived in the midst of towns) at a number of points in Church history, my own explanation for living in an urban area is that this is what Thomas Merton might have called an unnatural solitude which needs hermits to witness to the redemption that is possible there when isolation is transformed into genuine solitude by the grace of God. However, my own answer is not your answer and only you can explain why you have CHOSEN to live where you do. Only you can explain why it is possible to live an authentic eremitical life in an urban setting --- if indeed you believe it is. Like all other things this is a conclusion you come to with experience, study, reflection and prayer. Thus, how you answer the question is something which is truth, but it is your truth and, if you become a hermit, it will be one of the ways you become responsible for the living tradition of eremitical life.

Regarding support of oneself, one must usually work to do that, and ordinarily Bishops look for hermits who can support themselves in ways completely consonant with a contemplative life. It is generally solitary work whether done in or out of the hermitage and there are many possibilities here: writing, art, spiritual direction, cleaning (some clean buildings at night or after hours, for instance), beekeeping, writing icons, editing copy, woodworking, pottery, medical billing, etc, etc. The ways of doing this are only limited by one's imagination (and location --- though with the internet even that has changed somewhat). You would need to work this out over time and eventually (if admitted to a process of discernment for profession as a diocesan hermit) with your Bishop, delegate, etc to determine what works best and most contributes to your eremitical life.

I hope this helps. As always, if it raises more questions or requires clarification, please get back to me.

Memorial of St Mary Magdalen (Delayed Post)

Reflection: Memorial of St Mary Magdelen
Redwoods Monastery(Cistercian)
Whitethorn, CA
July 22, 2010


Today's Memorial of St Mary Magdalen is one that makes me wonder. Not least I wonder about why "the Church" has kept it in the calendar. Afterall, it so threatens the clerical and patriarchal status quo! And then I realize once again that I am Church, that many of the women I know are Church, that this monastery of nuns where I am making retreat is Church in the most authentic sense possible, that the Holy Spirit inspires her Church to recognize the sainthood of women like Mary Magdalen, inspires her to call the Magdalen "Apostle to the Apostles." It is actually a bit embarrassing to wonder about such things. It is embarrassing to still have deeply entrenched somewhere in my mind --- and despite my theological education and some of my experience --- the sense that the term "the Church" refers to a patriarchal hierarchy and to strongly suspect that if they only could, they would wipe this challenging and prophetic memorial off the face of the church calendar. And of course, part of the reason it is embarrassing is because this felt sense is also true in many ways. (Even now, for instance, you may wonder why this is only a Memorial and not an outright Feast -- or even a Solemnity. After all, this is the person that first realized and witnessed to the resurrection of the Christ --- the Apostle to the Apostles!) I know I wonder!

But this is a moving and challenging Gospel story and one of the strongest images in it is that of the stone having been rolled away and Mary initially not really quite knowing or having "caught up" to what has happened and the new reality signaled by that open tomb. This few moments in her life mirrors what is true in each of us, and in the Church as a whole more often than not. My own tendency to think of "the church" as the hierarchy, despite official church teaching to the contrary, is a small piece of this in my own life. Never mind that the hierarchy of the church often gives every indication that they believe this is how things are and should be! Apparently the hierarchy also has failed to recognize completely what it means that the tomb is open and the stone has been rolled away! All of us are learning to live with and from this new truth in our lives, I think --- learning, that is, to move and act in the ever more expansive space and freedom of people of the resurrection.

A few months ago I read a story about a man who regularly took walks along a specific walking path. Each time he ran into a man who was walking his dogs. The dog walker let all three of the dogs off the leash and two of them bounded off into the adjacent fields to run free and play together. The third also ran into the field and enjoyed the opportunity, but instead of running free he ran around in a small circle, constricted and cramped by an unseen boundary. The owner explained: "this dog was raised in a very small kennel and was never allowed out. When he ran it was within the confines of the kennel and he became accustomed to moving in this tight, constrained space. Even now, though he is free to run where he will, he continues to run as though he is a prisoner within this kennel." I am sure that I have areas of such unfreedom, areas where I think I am acting with some kind of expansiveness, realms where I think I understand something, or am acting as is natural and authentically human, but yet, which are really signs of my bondage to unChristian perspectives and narrowness of life. These are the places in my life which have not quite realized or "caught up to" the reality and meaning of the open tomb and the fact that the stone really has been rolled away for all time.


The second powerful moment for me today in this Gospel is when Jesus says, "Do not cling to me" and then commissions Mary to go out and tell the world (and especially the other disciples who are cowering in the house in fear) that Jesus is risen and will soon be ascended to his Father. In other words, Go and tell my Brothers and Sisters that death has been vanquished and cannot hold any of us again! Now, I always found this instruction, "Do not cling to me" puzzling, but today I saw in it two bits of important wisdom. The first came from my own meditation where I heard Jesus saying to me: "I am with you always and everywhere. Do not worry and do not cling merely to past understandings or stereotypes of your vocation. You are a hermit wherever you are, and I send you forth to be an eremitical presence in the world." Yes, of course I have to be faithful to my solitary contemplative discipline ---- or I shall be nothing and have nothing to give the world --- but it is a part of the diocesan hermit's charism/mission that she be sent to proclaim the Gospel to her brothers and sisters in her parish, diocese, etc --- even if that is carried out in complete silence.

A related bit of wisdom which echoed all of this came from our homilist at this morning's Mass when he reminded us that "Mary was called to let go of the old and embrace the new life of the resurrection." She could not cling to the old Jesus, the Jesus she knew before his passion and resurrection, for instance, but instead had to orient her life around the Risen Christ who was returning from his pilgrimage among us (and the sin and death that often defines us) to a place in the very heart of God. In other words, she had to come to allow the resurrection to define who she was today, to allow the risen Christ to be the Lord of her life. In short, she had to accept a new life in which nothing at all was really the same any longer. And she had to accept a commission to proclaim this newness to men and women whose old values, perspectives, and ways of living had been God-given under the old covenant! The call to be "Apostle to the Apostles." Hardly a small task!

My own prayer today in light of all this is that both personally and in the Church as a whole, in whatever way we may find ourselves running in cramped or constrained circles with our lives unused to, and perhaps unprepared for, the freedom of Christians, we truly accept the dignity and expansiveness of our Baptisms. I pray especially that I may work to allow those still-imprisoned bits (and habituated hunks) of myself to truly realize the stone has been rolled away and that --- to whatever extent it is still true --- I will no longer settle for living in a tomb. Too, I pray that those within the Church who have built a secure and powerful life for themselves in this all-too-human darkness and narrowness of power and prestige may not only realize they have been called to run freely outside, but that they have been given a risky and costly commission to call the world to such expansive freedom and life --- a commission which cannot be carried out from within this place of narrowness, human constriction, and death. May all of us as Church truly proclaim the gospel of Christ with and for the whole of our lives ---- may we each be an Apostle to the Apostles!!

Note to myself: 32 years ago today I made perpetual vows. These were not eremitical vows (they were made in community), but, except for some slight revisions, they were essentially the same vows I used for perpetual eremitical profession just three years ago on Sept 2, 2007. It has been an amazing journey and I look forward to many more years of the same with Mary Magdalen as a model.

Redwoods Monastery

I said I would write about retreat, but that will take some time, not only to process personally, but also to determine how it should best be done. Let me say at this point only that it was a very special week, a week at a Trappistine monastery (abbey) where silence, solitude and community, all under the Rule of Benedict was the order of the day, 24/7 (well, 6.5; Sunday is a bit different). I will also say that I have never felt more at home anywhere, and that the unexpected bond forged with this community of women religious and monastics I consider one of the greatest gifts of and from God I could have received. And lest any of you wonder if I am going to run off and "join the Trappistines," the answer is no. Precisely because this place felt so like home to me I am clearer than ever that I am called to be a diocesan hermit, and an urban hermit at that. However, in one way and another, Redwoods will also be an important part of living that with integrity, I suspect. Time and prayer will tell.


Located in or near what is called "The Lost Coast" in Northern California, Redwoods is a small monastery (actually now an Abbey), one of five women's Cistercian monasteries in the US. The drive once one turns off the freeway or main highway nearest the monastery is about 45 minutes. Redwoods has, counting the Trappist chaplain who ministers to the community, 11 members. One Sister is newly solemnly professed, one will make solemn profession in mid August, and one is a novice. The sisters grow most of their own food (the diet is vegetarian as in many monastic houses), and support themselves from the sale of flavored creamed honey and the reception of guests from May through late October or early November. Guest quarters (which are about 1/8 - 1/4 of a mile or so from the monastery proper) are simple (even rustic) but comfortable, food (usually taken in a guest dining room with a small library, refrigerator, etc) is nourishing, plentiful and excellent. Guests may join the sisters in all liturgical services (Divine Office, Eucharist, daily meditation sessions). They may also assist in work around the monastery if they arrange that with the guestsister. The grounds (300 acres) are simply magnificent, forest and grassland along with a river running through. (Some of this is cloistered and posted so, but there is plenty of common area otherwise.) Wildlife is ubiquitous --- especially deer (all the does had fauns, and all were comfortable and grazed right up to the buildings --- one doe bedded down next to the wall in the shade of one of the guesthouses after dinner (lunch) one day; she looked up as I passed but never moved otherwise).

A retreat may not be feasible for some readers (one may stay for shorter periods), but consider purchasing honey or otherwise supporting this monastery. It is "the real deal" --- a gift to both Church and world, and deserves whatever support people can give. To purchase honey online, google Redwoods Monastery and click at the top of the website on honey. Also available are watercolor cards, bookmarks, and pen and ink cards done by the Sisters (mainly Sister Victoria, I think). Finally, the Sisters have their library in an original (and, in places, somewhat ramshackle) building and need a new library which would allow them to house the really fine monastic collections now living in boxes or endangered by weather, etc. This would be accessible to guests part of the time, and would be part of the cloistered area the rest. If any readers could seriously consider contributing to this project, I hope they will do so. It is an investment in a significant instance of genuine, living Cistercian Tradition.

Note: I will put up some of my own photos as I have time. These three (chapel, honey and Sisters working in the honey house) are taken from the Monastery's own website.

Feast of St Martha

Today's Gospel is powerful and something we can all empathize with. The challenge of so many of the stories we have heard over the last two weeks has been to recognize and claim what is right in front of us. We have heard Jesus remind his disciples and others that what they have here and now is greater than Jonah, greater than Solomon, greater than the Temple even. In other words, it is greater than Judaism itself --- gift of God though that is. And we have heard parables that affirm there is a treasure hidden right in front of us in the midst of ordinary life --- a treasure we could stumble over while walking through a field, a pearl of inestimable value we have only to look to find in the middle of the market and surrounded by lesser pearls. In so many ways we have been encouraged to find the Kingdom of heaven (God himself) right in front of us and incarnate in Christ. Today the Gospel also suggests why this is so important.

The story is composed of a series of exchanges between Martha and Jesus. Martha's brother and Jesus' good friend Lazarus has died while Jesus was several days away, and Martha struggles to come to terms both with his death and with the revelation of God's love that is right in front of her. Equally importantly, this is the story of Jesus' struggle to get Martha to see and find true comfort and hope in this --- in Jesus himself and all he represents. As Jesus and his disciples approach, Martha --- irrepressible and the epitome of action, as always it seems --- runs to meet him, a rather respectful rebuke ready: "If only you had been here, my brother would not have died!" She follows this with a somewhat obscure affirmation, "But even now I know that whatever you ask of God he will do for you." What she hopes for here is unclear --- probably she doesn't know herself, but she does recognize Jesus as a special man of God and wonderworker --- affirmations which all fall easily within the religion and culture she knows so well. It does seem though, that she is not anticipating the resuscitation of her brother. Jesus counters with a statement of certain hope: "Your brother will rise," and before he even finishes it seems Martha breaks in with a recitation of Jewish future hope: "Yes, of course --- the resurrection on the last day." But she has not really heard what Jesus is saying right here and now.

Throughout these exchanges Martha does what we all do in times of threat and grief as we struggle to come to terms with what is happening and to grow in faith in God and his Christ. At first she turns to what might have been: "If only. . ." she remonstrates. We have all done it: "If only I had gone to a different school"; "if only I had married "Tommy" when I had the chance"; "if only I had left the house 10 minutes earlier, I would have never been in that accident." "If only I had become a nun I would never have missed my REAL vocation!" etc. We do it with God too: "If only he had heard (or answered) my prayer! "If only he had intervened and saved her" etc etc. It is a normal response to grief and loss, but it avoids living fully the present moment and it falls far short of faith in the present and risen Christ.

Next Martha turns to the future looking for comfort and hope. Again as we all do, she takes refuge in traditional beliefs, in this case a future resurrection of all of creation. Unfortunately this does not seem all that comforting for her, perhaps because, as is often true for so many of us, it is not anchored in present reality or certainty. It is something Martha has been told to believe (or told is reasonable to believe), and perhaps, it may not yet be completely convincing. (How true is something similar for us as we profess the articles of our Creeds, for instance? We believe these things as best we can; we may "translate them" for ourselves as we profess them and suppress doubt or questions in the process; we may derive some comfort from these beliefs, but to what extent do we really hope in them because we know their inbreaking here in front of us?) Martha, in completely recognizable fashion has turned to nostalgia for what might have been and to wishfulness for what might one day be, but both seem to fall short of genuine hope, and because of this neither are ultimately comforting in her grief and loss. How well we know her predicament!

But Jesus wants to comfort Martha. He is seeking to give her real hope which, as more than mere wishfulness, is rooted in certainty and anchored in present reality --- whether or not Lazarus is resuscitated. And so, gently he brings her attention back to what is certain and standing right in front of her: "Martha, I am the resurrection and the life. . ." Greater than any wonder worker, greater than Solomon or his Temple, born from Judaism and greater than anything Judaism itself can offer: "Martha, 'I am the resurrection and the life. . .'" right here, right now. And then he asks the critical question, "Martha, can you trust that? Can you entrust yourself to me and to all I am? 'Do you believe' --- today, right now, Martha?" And Martha responds, "Yes, Lord, I have come to believe (have faith) that you are the Christ (or, I have come to trust in you who are the Christ), the Son of God, the One who is coming into the world, " --- the fullest expression of faith thus far in the Gospel of John.

The challenge to us is the same as it was for Martha and the same as the readings have affirmed throughout the last weeks: to look to the Lord who is present right in front of us, who dwells with us in the midst of everyday life and accompanies us in all of life's moments and moods --- to find and claim the pearl of great price, the embodiment of the Kingdom of God who comforts, nourishes, and challenges us in Word and Sacrament; the one who brings life out of death and meaning out of absurdity every moment of our lives, who consoles and empowers with his Spirit and grounds authentic hope in certainty. Can we entrust ourselves to him? Can we build our lives around and on a relationship with him? Today. Right now. Will we?

Whence the Name, Stillsong Hermitage??

Dear Sister O'Neal, the name of your hermitage sounds kind of new age or something. Why didn't your diocese pick something more religious and Catholic sounding?

Hi there!
Just to be clear, the name of my hermitage is something I decided on, not a decision of my diocese, so it is a personally significant name and one I (through the grace of God, I think) am wholly responsible for. Hermits generally name their hermitages. Perhaps it will help if I explain its origin and you can decide then if you think it is "new age" rather than profoundly Christian. I would ask you also read the heading at the top of this blog because it also helps explain the name.

In theology there is the notion that human beings are "word events" or "language events". This is a piece of understanding the communal nature of every human being, and especially of seeing the dialogical nature of our existence. We are not isolated monads, but instead are created and shaped by our interactions with every person we meet, with the larger world, and of course, with God. But most fundamentally we are shaped by the words addressed to us and by the ways in which the words we ourselves are are heard and received by others. In our earliest moment or before, we are given a Name which allows us to be called or addressed personally, and which gives us a place to stand in human society. We grow or fail to grow depending upon the ways we are addressed, and we grow in our capacity to respond to others' words (and to our own name) similarly. On the most profound level we are constituted by our dialogue with God. More, we are constituted AS a dialogue, not only with others, but with God whose very address constitutes an ongoing living reality within us. In other words, more and more as we mature, we become incarnate words, greater and greater articulations of that unique name God calls in the depths of our souls.

But of course, things do not always go as they should and sometimes life shapes us into something less articulate than this, something distorted and even defined by pain and woundedness --- something far less than the full expression of abundant life we are called to be. And in my own life there was a period where, when I reflected on who I was in terms of my identity as a language or word event I came to describe myself more as a cry or scream of anguish than anything really articulate. (Note that a scream neither communicates much nor is capable of responding to another's word of address; it is relatively inarticulate and unresponsive and, while effective in signalling great pain in the short term, in time it merely pushes people --- and genuine assistance --- away.) And then, through a lot of personal work, spiritual direction, and the grace of God --- part of which is a call to eremitical life --- I achieved a degree of healing which changed all that. In time I became (or came to see myself) not simply as an articulate language event (a word), but a song, a contemporary Magnificat or Te Deum --- if you will allow the metaphors.

When it became time to name the hermitage I chose to combine a word which signified peace, silence, solitude (and especially as these all come together in the hesychastic "silence of solitude") along with a word which reflected the joy, healing, and growth as language event this hermitage helped occasion and represented. I considered adding things like "of the cross" or "of the Incarnation," but in the end I chose simply Stillsong. It seems profoundly incarnational (and therefore also Marian) to me.

This last week on retreat I had an experience (or series of experiences) which reaffirmed the wisdom and deep appropriateness of this choice, an experience where it seemed my whole being was singing and which also may have represented the recovery of a part of myself which had, through trauma, been silenced. So, new age? No. Profoundly Christian? Absolutely.

Desiring Mystical Experiences: "Is it Proper"?

One of the questions I received in response to the original post on Mystical Experience and One's Place in the World, was the following: [[Is it proper to desire mystical experiences? . . .My goal is quite simply to be completely absorbed in the Lord, in prayer. . .I have been a woman of serious prayer and meditation for many years and am desirous of being a true contemplative. But I realise that such are pure gifts from God. But, oh how I desire them! Am I wrong?]]

The short and unnuanced answer is, no, there is nothing wrong with simply desiring what you have had a taste of (mystical union), and what you are in fact made for. Often when we come to prayer we have a sense of deep peace, of various experiences of being addressed, comforted, healed, held, listened to, and we may also sense that those are partial or mitigated experiences of a communion we are ultimately made for. Sometimes the obstacles to more intense and pervasive experiences are those we carry within us, sometimes they are simply part of God's own hugeness or a sort of "withholding" of God's Self in these ways. But what remains true is that we are ultimately made for mystical union with God and so, longing for this in our prayer is completely understandable. So long as we remain aware, as you do, that specific experiences are gifts of God at the same time, and that, with or without such experiences, prayer is God's constant work within us, I think such desire CAN be virtuous and a way of remaining open to God's presence.

The longer answer though is that at the same time there MAY be something wrong with desiring these experiences; it depends on what we are desiring and why. One problem with these kinds of experiences is that they ordinarily put the focus on us and our experience rather than on God and his constant activity within us. Similarly, we often find these experiences are seductive. I remember for a week after the experience I described, I would go to prayer looking for this amazing ecstasy (this standing outside my normal reality in this way) to occur again --- I wanted so much to be taken up again in this way, to dance with Christ again, to experience the radiance of God's joy at being with me. And yet, it did not happen. I, rather sheepishly, related to my director what my prayer had been like that week and she laughed (gently, but with real understanding), and said, "It's a little like being a kid in a candy store, isn't it? You just want back in there for more!" And of course, she was right.

Fortunately, the experience I had (and have described here), focused my attention on God's own "experience" throughout -- not on my own. It was primarily an experience of God's own delight and joy, not my own. Even so, what I really needed to learn to do was to tap back into (or draw from the living memory of) the original experience from time to time, but also, to appreciate better the everyday omnipresence and grace of God which this experience signaled and in which it was grounded. To continue my director's analogy, I needed to learn to love fruits (and vegetables) and all the naturally sweet "foods" of Divine grace and presence that were around (and within!) me everyday at every moment. If mystical experiences do not lead us to an openness to God in all the ways God is present to us --- most of which are not marked by extraordinary experiences or even any "experience" --- then their seductiveness is probably not edifying, either to us or to others.

Another problem, especially when we come to see these experiences as a sign of advancement in prayer, or when they become regular (which tends to make me think they are more of us and less of God), is what happens when they cease. In the first instance we may cease to look for the real and infallible signs of spiritual growth and maturity: peace, love, compassion, patience, courage, the ability to suffer with equanimity, joy, and the like. We may begin to see our prayer as incomplete or inadequate. But ecstatic experiences, as you, I, and others note, are pure gifts and there is nothing we can do beyond normal faithfulness to prayer to prepare for or cause them. We absolutely cannot expect them. If we begin to think of ourselves as mystics because of a few significant experiences which were SOLELY due to God's power and grace, we may well have put the accent in the wrong place --- namely on ourselves and on what is merely a quantitatively small part of our spiritual lives which need not necessarily reflect the maturity of our spirituality or the authenticity of our humanity. (Note well, I am not referring to Peter Smith's identification of himself as a mystic here, for instance, --- that is completely valid I think --- but I do have a sense that this was true in the original situation that prompted the question I answered in Mystical Experiences and our Place in the World.)

In the second instance, when these experiences cease (or become infrequent), we may be tempted to think God has ceased to grace us at all, or that we have sinned seriously, or that we have reached some even "more advanced dark night" experience --- none of which are particularly likely or which really understand the gratuitousness of occasional or rare experiences of ecstasy or rapture and the like. This is especially difficult when we have come to define ourselves in terms of these experiences, or when others have come to see us in these terms and accept us as "spiritual" (or, in some cases, as less eccentric or unstable than they thought!) because of them. Is our prayer and our spirituality recognizably more than these experiences? Are we ourselves more than these --- no matter how important and genuine they are? Are we still mystics (or contemplatives, or charismatics, or whatever the label) when these experiences cease?  And finally, do we recognize that these experiences do not make us more profoundly loved by God than someone who never has such experiences? Do we realize that our everyday faithfulness to prayer and God's continuous faithfulness to us is far more important than these extraordinary experiences? These seem to me to be the important questions to which we (and those who know us) should be able to answer yes.

As many genuine mystics remind us, prayer (on our side of the equation) is an act of will. (I prefer to define prayer as God's activity within us, but on our side of things prayer is an act of will.) One author, in writing about Julian of Norwich commented: [[God is much more pleased, according to Julian, when our prayer is unrewarding to us but is centered on God, rather than on our self-oriented personal "experience." "Praying," [Julian] declares, "is a true, gracious, lasting intention of the soul one-ed and made fast to the will of our Lord by the sweet, secret working of the Holy Spirit" ---a simple act of faithful and trust-filled willing.]] He goes on to note: [[Julian delivers us from the guilt of not feeling prayerful. In a direct analogy one may often not feel like going home to one's spouse, but one goes home out of faithfulness, and thereby demonstrates a love that transcends the myth of romance and the sentimentality of emotions. Julian knows that both loving and praying are done with the will, not the emotions.]] (The Complete Julian of Norwich, Fr John-Julian, OJN, p 12)

The point here is not that feelings, emotions, or mystical experiences are bad or should not be desired (nor that they are not part of loving) but motives for prayer may be ambivalent at best when these, especially mystical or highly emotionally charged experiences, are involved. As I noted above, in the experience I described, what was overwhelming to me was what an experience of joy this was FOR GOD! I am sure I must have personally experienced joy (the imagery involved surely reflected it), but it was realizing that my prayer, my slightest gesture of acting/willing to be there and for and with God, opening to him, was a joyful experience for God that changed my life and prayer. Ironically, this mystical experience in many ways did away with the need or desire for others (i.e., other similar experiences)!  I have not ceased to do "lectio" with it even 35 years later. It remains striking to me that the feelings I can name clearly were God's own --- those communicated to me as 'his" joy and delight --- not my own.

One issue you raise is that of becoming a "true contemplative" and you linked that in your question (in the section I did not copy) with praying without distraction, including not being bothered by ambient sound and the noises of neighbors, etc. If you don't mind my opinion on that, I have found that if one can learn to pray WITH distractions --- that is, bring the neighbors, traffic (harried travelers, an overly mobile world, etc.) into one's prayer in some way, one may be closer to becoming a true contemplative than the image in your email allows. I would bet that if you try this these sources of distraction will surely look and sound differently to you thereafter. What is sometimes called "Infused contemplation" is a gift of God and not everyone may experience this at any given period, but I sincerely believe that all of us are called to contemplative prayer more generally, and this is no less truly contemplative than what is called "infused". We are surely called to be absorbed in God in our prayer (and to allow him to be "absorbed with" us in ways we might usually resist), but another reason for prayer is to bring all of creation to God, and this is one of the ways to help do that.

By the way, thanks to you and others for your suggestions on topics re diocesan eremitical life you would like to hear more about. They are good. Meanwhile, I hope this helps a bit with the questions you raised. Get back to me if it is unclear or raises more questions. Given the complexity and importance of the topic it is likely I will only cover one "side" of things at a time --- something that can cause a sense that that is the "only" side I appreciate.

Followup to Mystical Experience and One's Place in the World

I received a couple of emails, one from the original questioner, another with someone with additional questions, and one from Peter Smith with both some questions and a reference to his blog where he responded to my earlier post about Mystical Experience and our Place in the World. At this point I want to respond to Peter's blog article, and, when I have a chance, to the questions from his and the other emails. The idea is to continue a dialogue. So please check out his blog. (I can't seem to get the links to show up, so check out thegoodcatholicmystic.blogspot.com) Peter writes:

[[I can't comment directly to sr. laurel's blog (it isn't set up this way), but i wanted to comment on her post regarding the mystical state. First of lall, I should ask for clarification, because i wonder if we dealing in semantics. She seems to relegate 'mystical' experiences to 'mountain-top' experiences only, or as sort of ER help from the divine for the spiritually weak or immature. At least, that's what it sounded like she said. Um. Not my idea of what mysticism is about. Mysticism is a vocation; a way of life, an every minute, every day experience. Certainly it is not the normal province for the spiritually immature--isn't it usually the mark of the spiritually advanced? At least, some of the most spiritually 'powerful' saints in our canon were marked by a constant mystical life.]]

Yes, to some degree this is a matter of semantics, though not wholly so I think. The simplest answer re relegating the term "mystical experiences" to peak experiences is that for most of us the more everyday mysticism is called contemplative life (or something similar) and "mystical experiences" (ecstasy, trance, visions, locutions, etc) is the language of specific kinds of rarer events. In part that is done to rescue "contemplative life/prayer" from a sense of being for specialists only or from being associated only with special experiences --- especially those which separate from others or mark one out as unusual in some way. Some of the other reasons I noted in my earlier blog piece, and others relate to elements in the history of mysticism in Catholicism --- especially in the late medieval period which were problematical then and remain so even now for those who read without a sense of history and context. Clearly though, knowledgeable and reputable people write books (and blogs!!) about "everyday mysticism" or "practical mysticism," etc, so it can be done appropriately. When Peter speaks of "the mystical life" I think he is referring to a life lived in light of a pervasive sense of the mystery or ground of reality. If so, then I would agree completely that it is an everyday reality. But my own solution with this and other terms is to use contemplative instead (not least because it does not need to be qualified by the terms "everyday" or "practical") and to reserve "mystical experience" for the rarer and peak experiences. Similarly I would refer to a person with a contemplative life as a contemplative, even though at the heart of that is an awareness of (or resting in) the mystery which grounds all reality.

Also, Peter and other readers should be aware that the question I was responding to posed things in terms of 1) a wholly artificial and inappropriate division between a putative TCW (Temporal Catholic World) and MCW (Mystical Catholic World), --- especially in terms of the mystic being divided (alienated) from the temporal world --- and 2) mystical experiences per se which were specified as ecstasy, trance, and the like. The sections of the question which were not included, and which may have been marked by ellipses, referred to a specific situation which defines a prayer life in terms of extraordinary and alienating experiences and which can be seriously destructive in a parish environment. This situation is not mine to make public, but it underscores my own tendency to use contemplative in place of mystical, as well as to relegate mystical experiences to moments of significant breakthrough or union which enhance rather than detract from one's relation with this world. It may very well be that the notion of an everyday or "practical" mysticism would provide a way of countering the unfortunate elements in the situation referred to, but at this point I am not convinced.

One reason for this hesitancy is because the terms mystic or mysticism seem to set one up to expect as natural the more dramatic experiences we count as mystical: ecstasies, trances, visions, locutions, and the like. If one then finds they do not happen, or happen very infrequently, one can come to believe that there is something seriously wrong with one's prayer. But all prayer is God's work within us and those really peak experiences of union are complete gifts given according to God's will and wisdom. It becomes especially tricky if one has come to identify such experiences with advanced prayer ---- and spiritually dangerous as well, I think. We have better ways of measuring the quality of advancement in a prayer life: does one's prayer lead to greater compassion, joy, peace, creativity, hope, deeper and more authentic humanity? Does it allow one to suffer with equanimity and courage in a way which relativizes suffering so it, real as it is, does not define one's being? Does it sustain one even in the times when God seems absent, when life disappoints cruelly, and one feels out of step with the world? Does it lead one not to a sense of being different than others, but to a sense that one is really, in profound ways, the same as everyone else? That is, does it lead one to a sense of deep communion with God, and solidarity with his creation --- all that and those he regards as precious? Again, ecstatic or rapturous experiences of union with God do happen to those with little or no really developed prayer lives, so the experiences as such may or may not indicate advancement in prayer. They must be accompanied by these other more authentic signs of spiritual growth. I think that some of my concern in this regard --- the notion that we will come to measure the quality of our prayer by the presence or absence of peak mystical experiences --- is given at least a slight basis in Peter's blog entry on my original post.

He writes: [[ Frankly, in my 26 years of an intentional spiritual life, we experience, usually, what we EXPECT to experience. And there is no contradiction here. If we expect for 'mountaintop' experiences to happen only once per (fill in the blank) then that is what we shall have. If we anticipate that god will intersect with us daily, strangely, physically (so it seems), then he does. This is no mere 'wish fulfillment'; in my view it is a very fundamental and profound and sublime truth. If we wish the spiritual life to be difficult, to be dry, to be 'i-thou', to be usually 'reaching out', then it shall be.

To each his own. But as for me, a different path has chosen me. As sister said so eloquently when she expressed her feeling of the inexpressible joy of the Jesu during one of her own mystical experiences, 'where have you been, I'm so glad you are here'---does this not intimate that the Jesu expects us to be with him always, in every moment, and in that same sublime and inexpressible and mystical way? Why could it not mean that? I don't doubt that sister experiences god in a intimate and even in an ever-present way---but why must a 'mystical' union with god play so infrequent a role?]]

Let me be clear. In my prayer I am as open as I can be to God being present in whatever way (he) desires to be, but I (thank God!) do not usually get what I expect --- and so I practice not expecting any particular thing and again, simply being open. This is a reflection of my recognition that I am God's to do with as he will --- and my commitment to become that more and more. God is always a God of surprises, and we are always those who forget or underestimate (or perhaps --- and rightly so --- cannot hang onto) his awesomeness. Nor, in saying that I use the term mystical experiences for some peak or touchstone experiences, am I implying that my prayer otherwise is merely dry, difficult, or anything similar. Of course it also has these moments, and yet, even at these times it is rich, and alive with God's presence. In a very real sense, union with God is a daily reality I know (unless I opt out of that) --- even when I don't sense or feel it clearly, and I act and live in light of that deep knowledge --- and more importantly, in light of the deep knowledge that my prayer is a significant event (or experience) for God no matter what I personally experience.

However, wonderful as this ongoing sense of presence is, it is at least not as intense as those peak experiences I identify as "mystical experiences." As for what Jesus or God in Christ wishes for me, I have no doubt that one day "mystical union" in the sense Peter means, will simply be the whole of my reality, however I also have the sense that that time is not now. I still experience a union I call contemplative, and I am open to "more" whenever God deigns to give himself to me in this way; there is also no doubt, though, that were this to become a regular or frequent thing it would change my life and ministry dramatically, and, at this point, I have a strong sense that this is indeed where God wills me to be. Indeed, the last 40+ years have prepared for this place and time in my life and I know that God is as joyfiled over this as he was during that first 40 minute prayer experience 25 years ago.

So, I am not saying that "mystical union" cannot happen (my faith is clear that it can, does, and will), or that God does not wish it in my life (he has and does) ---- and certainly it is true that He wills it ultimately for every person. But in my theology it is also true that both human beings and God continue to experience estrangement from, as well as union with one another, and this estrangement and alienation witnesses to the imperfection and to the ongoing work still needed to bring all things to fulfillment in Christ. My experience is that God is infinitely patient and works constantly to reconcile, that is, to bring everything to union with himself. He gives us Scriptures, Sacraments, a Savior, prophets, mystics, and occasional mystical experiences as well to remind us of (and achieve) the goal of both his own and our lives, but it makes sense to me that we cannot dwell on the mountaintop at all times. Like Moses, and Jesus himself, we must come down to lead, witness to, heal, and inspire --- and of course, we must come down so that we ourselves may grow through our encounters with those who lead, witness to, heal, and inspire us as well. That is simply the normal way the Spirit of God works in our world.


Gifts must be used, spent, given away or otherwise shared rather than grasped at and that means coming down from the mountain to dwell where most others are most of the time. With Christ, we are reminded that he did not count equality with God something to be grasped at, but rather emptied himself. Did he experience a contemplative union with God during his life? Yes, except during the passion, it seems. Does he return to the Father in a way akin to mystical union in the Ascension (and perhaps during those times he went off to pray alone)? Yes, but descent was necessary so that the whole of creation could ultimately ascend to God as well. It is an image which reminds me of the rhythms of my own life and prayer, and one (among others) which helps me understand why those experiences I call "mystical experiences" happen relatively infrequently in the lives of most serious "pray-ers".

I am tempted to ask myself, "In all of this which has been of most significance to you, Laurel, the peak experiences like the one described, or the more everyday ongoing sense of dialogue and union with a God that constitutes part of your very being?" And I cannot say either is more important or more true. One worked like a jolt of electricity searing my mind and heart and changing forever the way I see myself and what I know as both my present and future. The other is like a well-banked and slow-burning fire which provides constant warmth, light, comfort and challenge. But both are with me always, just as both are of God and are the will of God.

N.B pictures are of "Transfiguration" by Lewis Bowman and are available in stretched Giclee canvas, matted and framed version, and simple print from fineartamerica.com.

Happy Fourth of July!!

Happy Independence Day to everyone! It is indeed a day to celebrate. Several of us who attend our parish met for Mass this morning, and then split up as one Dominican Sister went to help prepare her community's 4th of July BBQ for the four convents on their "block", while the rest of us left for a parade in a small town not too far from here. We stopped for "In and Out" hamburgers (to go) on the way into the parade town, and once again for rootbeer floats on the way out. The parade was not as great as we had been led to expect, but there were lots of people there celebrating one another, and the sections filled with armed forces bands, Blue Star Mothers, Gold Star Mothers --- all carrying pictures of their sons and daughters was very moving. I did have the strange experience of having one soldier salute me, and I "saluted" back (differing uniforms or habits, differing kinds of mission and service, differing ways of giving our lives, but mutual respect). I wiped more than a few tears away.

So, the others are off to neighborhood dinners, BBQ's and fireworks, and I am back at the hermitage with time to reflect on what freedom really is all about, and how very grateful I am that I have come to know that myself --- to whatever extent it has been realized in my life. I have written before here that freedom is the counterpart of divine sovereignty, that is we are truly free when God is sovereign in our lives. Freedom in this sense is the power to be those we are called to be. But most of us know freedom also as the environment which allows us to pursue this very responsible and peace-filled goal, and for that today, I am very grateful!

My very best on this anniversary of United States' Independence!

A somehwat sunburned
Sister Laurel M O'Neal, Er Dio