Reflection from Friday, First Week of Lent

We all have stories about times when we were somehow labeled or called a name which demeaned us. It happens in all kinds of situations -- not always out of maliciousness. Once when I was a patient having some experimental surgery to control seizures a doctor identified me to a resident physician as, "Dr Feinstein's TLE" -- that is, "Dr Feinstein's Temporal Lobe epileptic". It was hurtful and exacerbated my own difficulty in seeing myself as someone apart from my illness. Similarly, a friend grew up with an older brother who regularly called her "stupid." Unfortunately, she internalized the label and thought of herself as "stupid." Throughout her youth and even into adulthood she was hampered by an inability to see herself for who she actually was -- a truly brilliant and gifted young woman. The inability or refusal to see a person as person, to conflate them with labels, with some illness, failing, condition, ethnicity, etc., this very specific form of blindness is at the root so much of the sin that distorts our world; it is at the root of so much of the violence and cruelty we hear about every day. It is a form of killing which in some ways destroys (dehumanizes) both the one labelled and the one doing the labeling.

In Matthew's gospel text from last Friday we are given the example of this same form of blindness and dehumanization; in this case though the situation is worsened considerably by anger. Matt recounts a story of someone blinded in this way who can only see a person as "fool" or "imbecile" or the impossible-to-translate "Raqa!" It can lead one to even greater blindness and actual murder. Matthew does not believe the Law and Gospel oppose one another; he understands that the Gospel radicalizes the Law and empowers its fulfillment. Just a few verses before Friday's pericope Matt has Jesus affirming that he does not come to abolish the Law but rather to fulfill it! But what Matthew also knows is a God whose justice is not in opposition to Divine mercy; rather God fulfills justice in mercy. Mercy is the radicalization of justice; in fact, it is the paradoxically powerful way God does justice! God always says "Yes!" to the person as person even as God says "no!" to the sin, or illness, or brokenness. In other words, in this case, what human beings blindly and even sinfully conflate, God separates and makes right. His mercy is powerful because it always affirms the person as person. Over time, allowing God to love us in this way separates us from our sin, illness, brokenness, etc., changes our hearts and allows us to see ourselves and others with new eyes.

This is the greater righteousness Matthew's Gospel calls all those who would be followers of Jesus to as well. It is not enough merely to refrain from actual murder; we must allow ourselves to come to see the person as person. Whatever healing and conversion of mind and heart is required for this to occur within us is something we must undertake and give real priority to. This is what Matt is speaking of when he tells us to leave our gift at the altar and go and reconcile with our brother or sister. Matthew loves hyperbole: "If your eye offends, tear it out!", "Why do you not take care of the log in your own eye before trying to extract the splinter from your neighbor's eye?" and this encouragement to leave our gift is another bit of hyperbole. But the priority is real and literal: we cannot pretend to worship God in truth if we have not given priority to relating to our brothers and sisters in truth! We must give priority to changing our minds and hearts in a way which allows us to separate the person from any labels we may apply and to see them as persons.

As God has mercy on us, as God says "Yes" to us and "No" to our sin, so must we learn to do to everyone we meet. Only in this way can we heal our world of the bigotry, resentment, etc. and the anger that inflames these even whipping them into a firestorm that overtakes our world in acts of outright murder like we saw Thursday in New Zealand. We must learn to stop conflating qualities with the person themselves. We must do this for ourselves and for all others: after all, I have Temporal Lobe Epilepsy; I AM Laurel, beloved daughter of God! That person practices Judaism or Islam or Christianity (etc.); even more fundamentally they ARE (Personal Names) beloved children of God! We each and all sin, sometimes grievously ---but as persons we each remain beloved daughters and sons of God --- and we are so only through a Divine mercy that does justice in our world!

The responsorial psalm on Friday reminded us again and again, "If you, O Lord, mark iniquities, Lord who can stand?" It is the mercy of God that says yes to us as persons that allows us to stand tall in our own deepest truth even as it moves us away from our sin and brokenness; it is that same mercy mediated through us that will allow others to stand tall in their own truth even as it defeats the anger, resentment, bigotry and simple thoughtlessness that so demean, dehumanize and kill.

Second Sunday of Lent: Considering The Transfiguration (reprised)

Transfiguration by Lewis Bowman

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

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

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

Taking Offense at Jesus:

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

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

Learning to See With New Eyes:

I watched a video today of a man who was given Enchroma glasses --- a form of sunglasses that allows colorblind persons to see color, often for the first time in their lives. By screening out certain wavelengths of light, someone who has seen the world in shades of brown their whole lives are finally able to see things they have never seen before; browns are transformed into yellows and reds and purples and suddenly trees look truly green and three-dimensional or the colorful fruit of these trees no longer simply blend into the same-color background. The man was overwhelmed and overcome by what he had been missing; he could not speak, did not really know what to do with his hands, was "reduced" to tears and eventually expressed it all as he hugged his wife in love and gratitude. Meanwhile, family members were struck with just how much they themselves may have taken for granted as everyday they moved through their own world of "ordinary" color and texture. The entire situation involved a Transfiguration almost as momentous as the one the disciples experienced in today's Gospel.

For most of us, such an event would overwhelm us with awe and gratitude as well. But not Peter --- at least it does not seem so to me! Instead he outlines a project to reprise the Feast of Tabernacles right then and there. In this story Peter reminds me some of those folks (myself included!) who want so desperately to hang onto and even control amazing prayer experiences --- immediately making them the basis for some ministerial project or other; unfortunately, in doing so, they, in acting too quickly and even precipitously, fail to appreciate these experiences fully or learn to live from them! Peter is, in some ways, a kind of lovable but misguided buffoon ready to similarly build booths for Moses, Elijah and Jesus in a way which is consistent with his tradition --- while neglecting the qualitative newness and personal challenge of what has been revealed and needs to be processed in personal conversion. In some way Matt does not spell out explicitly, Peter has missed the point. And in the midst of Peter's well-meaning activism comes God's voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!" In my reflection on this reading this last weekend, I heard something more: "Peter! Sit down! Shut up! This is my beloved Son! Listen to him!!!"

Like Peter, and like the colorblind man who needed wear the glasses consistently enough to allow his brain to really begin to process colors in a new way, we must take the time to see what is right in front of us. We must see the sacred which is present and incarnated in ordinary reality. We must listen to the One who comes to us in the Scriptures and Sacraments, the One who speaks to us through every believer and the whole of creation. We must really be the People of God, the "hearers of the Word" who know how to listen and are obedient in the way God summons us to be. This is true whether we are God's lowliest hermit or one of the Vicars of Christ who govern our dioceses and college of Bishops. Genuine authority coupled with true obedience empowers new life, new vision, new perspectives and reverence for the ordinary reality God makes Sacramental. There is a humility involved in all of this. It is the humility of the truly wise, the truly knowing person. We must be able to recognize how very little we see, how unwilling or unable we often are to be converted to the perspective of the Kingdom, how easily we justify our blindness and deafness with our supposed knowledge, and how even our well-intentioned activism can prevent us from seeing and hearing the unexpected, sometimes scandalous God standing there right in the middle of our reality.

Moving Back into "the World"?

[[Sister did you ever think that by "taking on" Bible study you were turning away from your vocation. The Bible tells us that we shouldn't look back after putting our hand to the plow! Aren't you moving back into the world God called you to leave?]]

Thanks for your email. The question regarding whether anything new I take on is a form of flight or escape from some dimension of my vocation or a way of living it inauthentically always comes up in discernment, so yes, I certainly considered these questions. I sense in your second question a dichotomous view of reality I don't share. I don't believe we can treat the hermitage as one reality and "the world" as reality outside the hermitage. As I have written here before, if we do this, we will soon discover, perhaps to our great shock, that upon closing the hermitage door we have shut ourselves in with "the world" that lives and is deeply lodged within our hearts, minds, and limbs. In a post I put up recently Thomas Merton describes this as merely having isolated oneself "with a tribe of devils." The "world" hermits and monastics turn from when they accept the call to seek God in silence and solitude is the world of "that which is resistant to Christ." It is the world which believes in values which are illusory --- values which promise fulfillment but which leave us empty and hungry for that which is lasting and completes us.

Remember that not everything outside the hermitage is "the world" in this sense. In fact, since God is present within the whole world making all of it at least potentially sacramental, and since God can be found in the ordinary things of the world around us, we identify "the world" the hermit (or monastic) "flees" with all of that only at our peril. But I have written about this before so I invite you to check out other articles on the term "the world" or "stricter separation from the world". Some will refer to Thomas Merton's reflections on "the world" the danger of hypostasizing this term. Merton stresses that we need to learn to see everything in God, that is, we must learn to see everything in its truest sense. "The world" is a kind of illusory seeing which prevents our doing this. Freeing ourselves of this illusory (and sometimes delusional) perspective while learning to see everything as God sees is what monastics and eremites do to as part of "leaving the world." A commitment to the life of God on behalf of the other is another part of "leaving the world", physical separation in the silence of solitude and prayer is another part. All of these are true especially for a hermit living in eremitical silence and solitude.

My own work with regard to Scripture study, at least so far, is proving to be a significant and concrete expression of this commitment. It does not detract from but rather is an expression of it which paradoxically calls me to live my eremitical life with even greater fidelity, imagination, energy, and love. So, yes, my life of solitude gives me something concrete (as well as many things which are less tangible) to share with my parish/diocese just as the small time I am giving to them strengthens my own eremitical life both in returning me again and again to Scripture and in allowing me encounters with people I will carry in my heart back into the solitude. God is alive and very active in all of this and it is in this way I move forward to live more deeply perhaps, the eremitical life God has called me to. You see, I think this means I am moving into the world God has called me to love and I am doing that precisely as a hermit who has and does embrace "stricter separation from the world" in ways which help me to grow in the silence of solitude (the very goal of eremitical solitude and silence).

On Discernment of Active Ministry

[[Hi Sister Laurel, I am interested in how you discerned or do discern doing something like the Scripture you are doing at your parish. I want to emphasize I believe it is fine that you do this; I am not criticizing, but I wondered how you approached taking it on. How did you know it was right for you? Were you unhappy with your eremitical life in some way? Also, do you think all hermits should do this (not Scripture, I mean, but doing something at their parish like this)? Did you need permission to do this? I was intrigued that you said you were loving it so I wonder too why you didn't do this sooner. Please just answer in terms of your discernment process if parts of my questions are too personal.]]

Wonderful questions, thank you! The possibility of doing this came up about three or four months ago. We had had someone doing Scripture for a number of years and he stopped about two years ago. I was unaware he had had to stop so the word I heard those months ago was my first sense of this. Even so it gave me time to seriously consider what I might do if I discerned it was something I was both able and was called to do. So, how did I discern this?

First, let me say that I am still engaged in discernment in this matter. After prayer I spoke with my director and then with my pastor to see if there were any immediate reservations or if the parish had already planned on asking someone else to take this on. I also determined that I could offer to do so for a certain time period while I discerned how this worked in my eremitical life. As a result of discussion with my director and pastor it seemed a good idea to commit to this for a year and, rather than do it week in and week out, plan a number of series with breaks between each one. This would allow continuing  discernment not only during the series but also in the time between them.

But the general "rule" of discernment was to pay attention to how this activity affected my life, first my own inner life, and then too my external life. After all, discernment is a process of listening to our hearts, to our deepest selves and to the God that dwells therein. So for instance, whether I am doing the class or preparing for it I am reading Scripture and commentators on Scripture; and what was true was that every time I opened the pages of the parables themselves or read those who had explored them I found myself getting excited, experiencing an energy and an intensification of my own centeredness, as well as experiencing those times of synchronicity that occur when we are right at the center where we ought to be.

Similarly, I noticed that prayer, relationships, personal work (direction) all flowed together with this work and I experienced that in the act of teaching/sharing Scripture I was also "revealing" the very nature of what eremitical life (being alone with God for the sake of others) makes me to be; I had the sense that perhaps people in the class were getting a glimpse of my heart and the way Scripture nourishes and inspires my life. In other words, I had an experience of being precisely the hermit I am called to be even (and perhaps especially) in the midst of such activity. It was a surprising and paradoxical experience of being more profoundly hermit in and because of this activity because God who calls me to eremitical solitude was clearly at work in it energizing me, loving me, and freeing me to love in this specific way as a natural expression and extension of my solitude in and of the hermitage.

I have always stressed that eremitical life is a unique form of life in community. What I have found thus far in doing this series was that certain kinds of communal activities can not only enhance but also reveal (make real in space and time) the deepest core of one's solitary call. Most of the time what I do and even who I am is hidden from the people in my parish. They catch glimpses at liturgy, parish functions, or an occasional coffee. But in this specific series (and while the series is not about this, of course) it may be that folks are seeing where I am most alive, most myself, and also truly solitary, namely in my engagement with God in prayer and in Scripture. This was really a revelation to me and it suggests that my discernment in this is sound.

Need for Permission?

In a sense I have to say, no I did not need permission to do this if you mean did I ask someone (bishop or delegate) for permission. Of course I needed my pastor's agreement to do it and I discussed the matter with my director. She was helpful in assisting me to listen to my deepest self, to the reasons the project was intriguing to me, and the ways it would change my life. We talked about shifts in energy levels, how this corresponded to the progress in the inner work we have been doing and what new demands on my health, horarium, etc this project would entail; we set up parameters which would allow me to step back from the project if it was not a way of appropriately honoring both my commitment to my eremitical life and to my parish family whom I am called to love in real and concrete ways. Finally we have discussed and evaluated my experience as the series has proceeded and noted its impact on everything else.  I think you can see that once all this is done "permission" is not precisely needed or something I requested. At the same time I can say I undertook this project with the prayers and blessing of my director/delegate.

Should All Hermits Do Something Like This?

No, I don't think all hermits will be called to do something like this nor would it be right for them. I think it happens on an individual basis and can only be embraced when the person is solid in their eremitical solitude and their sense of the uniquely communal nature of that solitude. Also, I think it is critical that the hermit have accepted that eremitical life may require giving up the use of every discrete gift and talent to witness to the fulfillment that comes in God alone. I could not have done this sooner, at least not in the past several years, but now circumstances are changing and that makes it an appropriate time to consider something like this ( this is one of those experiences of synchronicity I mentioned above). One must be able to undertake this as a hermit --- not in the sense of living a role or doing it because someone outside the hermitage says one should be doing this, but rather, it is a matter of being a hermit through and through and, again, working out what are appropriate natural expressions of that.

When this is true one may experience the freedom to do such a project. (Remember, Christian freedom is the power to be the person we are called to be, not merely by filling a role or being someone on whom a title has been bestowed but by being a Self in God and standing in the truth of that Selfhood.) In this project I am being true to my self-as-hermit and especially as a consecrated hermit with a specifically ecclesial vocation. And no, I could not have done this if I was unhappy in some way with my life as a hermit. This is another paradox. Unhappiness in my vocation would have prevented me from undertaking this project; it would have taken me away from solitude or an inner "quies" and the energy that comes from this. Rather, it is precisely my happiness in eremitical life that makes it possible to be true to myself in this way without diminishment but rather with an enrichment of eremitical solitude. I hope this is helpful. It was difficult to describe how things come together in discernment and I found it especially difficult to articulate the paradox of  contemplative solitude being fully revealed in a bit of active ministry. So again, I hope this is helpful.

National Catholic Sisters Week

 

As I noted a few posts back, while preparing the series on parables I am currently doing for my parish, I spent some time reflecting on and praying with the parable of the buried treasure. I posed questions to myself after each phrase in the pericope as a way of allowing the parable to speak to me or (potentially) to participants in the series. First, "What is this treasure?" Then, "Have you ever known anyone who has sold everything to follow Christ?" In my mind a number of people popped up, all but one of them Religious Sisters, many deceased, but some who continue today to pour out their lives day in and day out so that others might have the abundant life Jesus came to bring. Many of these have celebrated or approach the celebration of at least their 60th Jubilee -- that is, at least 60 years of service as Consecrated Religious.

 

Today, when many communities and congregations are nearing and consciously and prayerfully working out their own process of "completion," that is, when many congregations are writing the final chapters in their community's lives in ways that will ensure their Missions and charisms live on beyond them,  it is a bittersweet but very real honor to celebrate all those whose consecrated lives have revealed the Reign of God more fully day in and day out. Thanks and praise be to God!

On Fasting: Attending to Our Deepest Needs and Hungers

Today's readings are all about fasting: proper fasting, improper fasting; fasting that pleases God, fasting that does not; fasting that causes fights and grumbling, fasting that is a genuine and fruitful sacrifice and leads to reconciliation with our deepest selves, our God, and others. When I was a student my major professor was quite emphatic that, "Fasting is not intrinsic to Christianity" or "Fasting is not essential to Christianity" or "There is nothing about fasting that is essentially Christian." At the time I didn't realize John intended to provoke reflection; my conclusion re fasting was instead something like, "Oh, well, in that case toss the practice out!" But of course the question and nature of fasting is much more nuanced than that and while it not essential to Christianity, it remains an important piece of spiritual growth.

Let's be clear though. Fasting does not make us holy; it makes us hungry.  It is what we do with our hunger that can lead to holiness. Specifically, fasting can help put us in touch with our deepest hungers, our most profound needs. Turning to God with these and then in gratitude to our hungry world is what can make us holy. But we need to pay attention! We need to approach fasting as a tool which can make us a bit more vulnerable and open to knowing ourselves, a bit more open to turning to God with and in that vulnerability, and a bit more committed to listening to the rumblings and murmurings of hunger that make themselves known not merely in our stomachs, but in our hearts and minds. Only after we have attended to these signals within us can we become better able to hear the murmurings and pain of others, the deep cries of their hungers and yearnings. Only then will our compassion be awakened and grow to allow us to sacrifice for these others in the ways Isaiah (and Jesus!)` calls for.

Fasting thus has two purposes: 1) to open us to our own deepest needs and to the God who meets them --- whether in prayer or through the mediation of others, and 2) to sensitize us to the needs of others and empower a compassionate solidarity with them which may help us meet their needs on many levels. It falls along a three point arc which defines Lenten praxis in Catholic parishes all over the world, viz., fasting, prayer, almsgiving. We begin with fasting to awaken our minds, hearts, and bodies to the needs that define us in part; we proceed by bringing all of ourselves, but especially our deepest needs for fulfillment and healing to God so that God may work within us and touch us wherever and in whatever way God wills (and especially we pray so God's own profound yearning to be God-for-and-with-us may also be met). We then act in gratitude to and compassion toward those whose lives are similarly fraught with the need to hear the Word and touch of the Merciful God who is Love-in-Act.

In today's Communion Service I passed on something my director brought for me when we met earlier this week, namely, a list Pope Francis put out a couple of years ago under the title, Do You Want to Fast this Lent? Here it is:

Fast from hurting words and say kind words.
Fast from sadness and be filled with gratitude.
Fast from anger and be filled with patience.
Fast from pessimism and be filled with hope.
Fast from worries and trust in God.
Fast from complaints and contemplate simplicity.
Fast from pressures and be prayerful.
Fast from bitterness and fill your heart with joy.
Fast from selfishness and be compassionate to others.
Fast from grudges and be reconciled.
Fast from words and be silent so you can listen.

But the move, for instance, from hurting words to kind words is not automatic. There is a reason (even numerous reasons!) for bitterness which needs to be addressed in some fashion. Thus, between the terms in each of Pope Francis' sentences something more than an act of will is required. I suggested folks take some time to get in touch with the feelings and needs underlying the hurting words, sadness, anger, pessimism,. . . bitterness, etc, take these to prayer and prepare themselves with the grace of God to move to the alternative: kind words, gratitude, patience, and so forth. I make the same suggestion here. In this we will find over time that fasting prepares for and gives way to feasting as God's love, in whatever way that comes to us, heals and empowers us to mediate that same Presence to others. All those years ago Prof Dwyer was correct: fasting is not essential to Christianity. But Dr Dwyer, I think, was not encouraging us to throw the practice out; he was provoking us to think and pray and find the proper place fasting does hold in our faith, viz it is a means toward growth in compassion that can nourish and heal our whole world.

All good wishes for a fruitful, nourishing, and healing Lent!

What Happens to You if your Bishop Moves?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, what happens to a diocesan hermit whose bishop is assigned to another diocese or becomes an Archbishop there? I know this happened to you. I read that a canonical hermit's professing bishop remains liable and responsible for supervising and directing (spiritual direction) the hermit even after he leaves a diocese: [[Finally, when the hermit is canonically approved, one can contact that person's bishop who is liable and responsible for supervising and the spiritual direction of said hermit. This is the case, even if the bishop has left the diocese where and in whose hands (so to speak, per CL603), the hermit has professed his or her vows.]] (https://catholichermit.blogspot.com/2019/03/catholic-hermit-handling-hermit-wrong.html)

Thanks for the question. I don't know how common these misunderstandings are; I think this is the second or third time I have written about it (not a problem, of course), but no, this view of the way eremitical profession and mutual ecclesial accountability works for the diocesan hermit and her professing bishop is all wrong. First, a diocesan hermit is professed by the local or diocesan Church in the hands of the local ordinary on behalf of the Universal Church. So, for instance, I made my perpetual vows in the hands of Archbishop Allen Vigneron (then Bishop of the Diocese of Oakland) in Sept 2007. Whatever happens to Archbishop Vigneron subsequently (in this case he moved back to Detroit and was made Archbishop), I remain a "Hermit of the Diocese of Oakland." This also means that whichever bishops follow Archbishop Vigneron as ordinaries of the Diocese of Oakland, they will each become my legitimate superior in turn and assume responsibility for and authority over my vocation as I live that out  --- though the daily exercise of an authority or responsibility that empowers my own accountability usually falls to my delegate (Sister Marietta Fahey, SHF) and (to a much lesser degree at this point) co-delegate (Sister Susan Blomstad, OSF). (The idea of co-delegates is new and we are finding our way here.) Bishops exercise their jurisdiction until they move on to another See (as Bishop Cordileone also did when he became Archbishop of San Francisco.)

Not only is this a matter of jurisdiction under canon law (jurisdiction of a bishop over one's own diocese and subjects), but in entirely human and pragmatic ways it makes little sense to expect a bishop to retain responsibility for supervising a diocesan hermit after that bishop leaves a diocese. How could anyone (hermit or bishop) expect to maintain or grow a relationship in which meaningful authority and mutual accountability are exercised if the bishop  moves (for instance!) to the Archdiocese of Detroit while the hermit remains (for instance!) in the Diocese of Oakland (for the diocesan bishop is accountable for the diocesan's hermit's vocational well-being just as she is accountable to the Church through him)?

Other inaccuracies involve the affirmation that the bishop remains responsible for the hermit's spiritual direction and the notion of liability. In fact a diocesan bishop is rarely if ever a diocesan hermit's spiritual director because of potential clash between internal and external forums (fora). (As legitimate superior the bishop has authority over external matters; the spiritual director deals with matters of conscience and the hermit's inner life which may not be things the hermit can or would normally bring to one's legitimate superior.) This is not a matter of secrecy, much less lack of frankness but rather of ensuring the bishop's ability to act as superior is not muddled with matters better handled by one entirely committed to confidentiality. (Personally I find the separation between internal and external forums can be much less absolute with regard to delegates but this should be discerned; it will depend on the authority granted her and also on how she exercises that authority with regard to the hermit.) Also, as a matter of terminology, Canon 603 refers to the hermit's bishop as "director" but this does not mean "spiritual director"; it means director like "director of formation," "director of novices," "director of juniors," etc., in religious life. In these situations those in formation, etc., will have their own spiritual directors entirely separate from their legitimate superiors or "directors".

As to remaining liable for a hermit's behavior, the statement cited is flat wrong. This is something I have also addressed before (please see other articles on bishop as legitimate superior) but be aware that c 603 hermits sign waivers of liability at perpetual profession which free a diocese of any liability for remuneration (say, in a claim for wages) or costs tied to dimensions of the hermit's life or behavior. It is true that a diocesan bishop is responsible for dealing with the hermit's problems (or problems with the hermit for that matter!) but neither the diocese nor the bishop personally is in any way liable for debts accrued by the hermit, or, should this occur, costs associated with any misbehavior on the hermit's part. This of course does not suggest a bishop will not discipline a hermit if the need ever arises but it does say the diocese and ordinary are not liable for damages or debts if these should ever occur.

Once Again on Right-handed vs Left-handed Power: Mark 4 and the Stilling of the Storm

[[Dear Sister, in two of your recent posts you are saying that the kind of Messiah Jesus becomes depends on how he discerns the will of God, am I right? And that means that the kind of disciples he calls us to be depends on the kind of Messiah he will be and we will accept. If Mark is saying Jesus wants his disciples to accept a Messiah who needs to suffer and die to do the will of God why does he still the storm at the end of Chapter 4? I read the chapter and that seems to conflict with the rest of it. By the way, thanks for sharing more of that prayer experience. Has it caused you to conclude that God did not want you to be well or that He wanted you to be sick? I think that could be very difficult to hear!]]

Great questions! Thank you! As I read the piece about stilling the storm I hear it in two or three ways: First, it serves as a kind of second bookend pairing the one in the section preceding the chapter of the seed parables with the statements about Jesus as the strong man who will destroy the kingdom of Satan, or being recognized as one who speaks/teaches with a hitherto unknown authority (exousia, power). That first section (Mark 1-3) is full of healings and exorcisms --- right-handed acts of power. Jesus is affirmed as "Son of God" ---and "beloved Son" which means he is a hearer of the Word; in Judaism he would have been understood to embody the foundational Shema: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God is One. . ." and thus, be the human being uniquely empowered by the creative Word of God. All of this is followed by parables which point away from a Kingdom of God as commonly understood --- a Kingdom establishing Israel as preeminent amongst the kingdoms of this world with a militaristic Messiah. But Jesus is still the "Strong Man", the One who represents and reveals (makes known and real in space and time) the Creator God. If he embraces a Messiahship that is worked out in weakness, suffering, and even in death, it must be seen as a choice rooted in his discernment of the will of God and a paradoxical act of power.

Secondly, I think in stilling the storm Jesus essentially says to his disciples, "Remember who I am! Remember whom you are asking whether I care if you perish!!" We can think of it as an enacted parable perhaps, a way of saying, "Will you follow me in my understanding of the will and mission of God or not?" The right-handed use of power serves to ease the disciples' fear, to assure them of Jesus' identity, and remind them that he does indeed participate in the power of God in ways they have never seen before. It underscores that Jesus is compassionate and can work wonders (in the NT, what we call miracles are called works of power) that only God would be expected to do.

Finally and above all, I think this enacted parable asks the disciples yet again if they will trust Jesus and follow him --- even if his choices take them along a path to violent death.  Mark writes his story this way to address his community who are being persecuted and are in some real danger of death. Similar questions are put to them when they wonder if God cares that they are in danger of perishing: can you trust the Crucified Messiah is really the "Strong Man", the embodiment of the Wisdom and Word of God?

And as he addresses them so does he address us: Can you trust that the way Jesus brings redemption is the left-handed way of power that will include suffering, that reveals itself in weakness but that accompanies us in every moment and mood of our existence thus transforming our lives with God's presence? Can you trust the paradox of the Cross, that eternal life and the reconciliation of the whole cosmos comes through scandalous (offensive) death revealing that ultimately no one and nothing is abandoned by the God whose Love is stronger than  death? Do you believe not just in the death of Jesus but in his resurrection? Do you believe the Messiah who reveals that when all the props are kicked out God accompanies us in an ultimately meaningful way? Can you trust that when patience seems impossible and perseverance may feel meaningless, when the notion of a God whose power is made perfect in weakness seems ridiculous and your own discipleship feels like foolishness in the face of the world's power that the Crucified Messiah is truly Emmanuel, God-With-Us?  Can you believe that he makes known and real in human history a God who can be absolutely trusted to be with and for you even to the depths of sin and death and that this God will bring new life forth from these even as he reconciles the whole of creation to (Him)self?

On God Willing Illness:

No, I never concluded that God wanted me to be ill. I don't believe God ever wills illness. However, I did conclude that in some way God knew that my illness could serve his will and my own discipleship because it called me to a discipleship allowing God's faithful accompaniment and my own growth in trust.  I had no idea how that could be or what shape that would take in in my own life or the life of others but my own sense of God's power experienced in that prayer eased my concern and helped me be open in spite of difficulties. What I do know, however, was that during this prayer I was entirely safe in God's hands. I think my director knew that as well. In any case one thing I took from this prayer experience was a sense of fundamental security in spite of illness or anything else. In time illness led me to consider eremitical life where I might never have done so otherwise and over time it has allowed me to do inner work I would never have been able to commit to otherwise. I have always been fascinated by paradox and the theology of Paul; chronic illness has provided a context for really understanding these more deeply and for learning to trust God in every situation.

While I cannot say this is a form of discipleship I would have chosen, especially when I was younger, nor one that I find all that easy to be faithful to sometimes, I am grateful to be called to it. I too have wanted God to act with right-handed power in my life, or to reveal things in ways that short-circuited long periods of waiting and patience (or impatience!!). But the Gospel of Mark inspires me and the parables of the seeds especially remind me that God's power is certain; thus I trust the way Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it: [[Not everything that happens is the will of God, but inevitably, nothing that happens does so outside the will of God!]] The Apostle Paul affirmed a God who could bring life out of death, good out of evil, and meaning out of absurdity. Mark also knew that well and the story (the enacted parable) of the stilling of the storm reminded his disciples just who it was sleeping peacefully in the midst of chaos even as it called them to faith in a sometimes-shocking God.

A Contemplative Moment: Solitude is not Separation

 

Solitude is Not Separation

by

Thomas Merton

  

Some (persons) have become hermits with the thought that sanctity could only be attained by escape from other (persons). But the only justification for a life of deliberate solitude is the conviction that it will help you to love not only God but other (people). If you go into the desert merely to get away from people you dislike, you will find neither peace nor solitude; you will only isolate yourself with a tribe of devils.

 

Man seeks unity because he is the image of the One God. Unity implies solitude, and hence the need to be physically alone. But unity and solitude are not metaphysical isolation. He who isolates himself in order to enjoy a kind of independence in his egotistic and external self does not find unity at all, for he disintegrates into a multiplicity  of conflicting passions and finally ends in confusion and total unreality. Solitude is not and can never be a narcissistic dialogue of the ego with itself. Such self-contemplation is a futile attempt to establish the finite self as infinite, to make it permanently independent of all other beings. And this is madness. Note, however that it is not a madness peculiar to solitaries --- it is much more common to those who try to assert their own unique excellence by dominating others. this is the more usual sin.

 

. . .True solitude is the home of the person, false solitude the refuge of the individualist. The person is constituted by a uniquely subsisting capacity to love --- by a radical ability to care for all beings made by God and loved by Him. Such a capacity is destroyed by the loss of perspective. . . Go into the desert not to escape other (people) but in order to find them in God.

 

. . .There is no true solitude except interior solitude. And interior solitude is not possible for anyone who does not accept (her) right place in relation to other(s). There is no true peace possible for the (one) who still imagines that some accident of talent or grace or virtue segregates (her) from other(s) and places (her) above them. Solitude is not separation. God does not give us graces or talents or virtues for ourselves alone. We are members one of another and everything that is given to one member is given for the whole body. I do not wash my feet to make them more beautiful than my face.

[I write a lot here about the difference between solitude and isolation, eremitism and individualism, and these are a couple of the things I am asked about most frequently --- especially as folks discern the distinction between being a hermit and being a lone or solitary individual -- no matter how pious. Similar questions are posed on the idea of eremitical hiddenness and the distinction between that and anonymity and disengagement. Thomas Merton speaks to all of these ideas. He wrote about Solitude in Seeds of Contemplation but in New Seeds of Contemplation he wrote a new essay called "Solitude is not Separation". The differences between the two are striking; while complementary essays, they show such incredible shifts and development in his understanding and experience of eremitical solitude! The above post consists of excerpts from that second essay.]

Catholic Hermits and Non-Profit Status

[[Sister, I was told that diocesan hermits (solitary Catholic hermits) could file for 501c(3) tax exemption. This hermit seems to disagree: [[But a hermit does not have others in the temporal realm to help clean and unpack, organize, to cook and in our time period, handle procurement of supplies.  There is no extern nun or monk; and a consecrated Catholic hermit has not tax exempt status, so the IRS duties are the hermit's own, and for me, once I gather and provide all the numbers from receipts and appropriate 1099 income forms, a long-time accountant will crunch the numbers, fill in the proper forms, and file my tax returns.]] (Catholic Hermit, Letter from Spiritual Father, italics added) Is she correct or was I misinformed?]]

In this case Ms McClure (aka, Joyful Hermit), a privately vowed lay hermit who writes the blog you cited, and who, therefore, might well not be expected to know about tax exempt status for canonical hermits, is incorrect and you were properly informed. Solitary Consecrated Hermits (that is, Diocesan Hermits -- canonically professed and consecrated under c 603) can and do set their hermitages up as 501(c)3's if that works for them. The Church permits (and the US tax code allows) and in some instances, may even encourage this. In such cases the hermit only pays taxes on income which has nothing to do with the religious nature and mission of the hermitage; (the classic example is the charity that, besides its primary mission or reason for existing also makes some money repairing bicycles. They do pay taxes on that money). Canonical (Catholic) hermits are also free from property taxes and sales tax when they are established as 501(c)3's. Non-profits do pay various taxes for employees (Social security and Medicare). 

I should note that not every canonical (publicly professed) solitary hermit does this however; for some of us becoming recognized as non-profits is of no real benefit because 1) our incomes are so small we do not usually pay much if any income tax, and 2) we do not own our hermitages, and thus, are not responsible for property taxes anyway. Moreover, everything coming into the hermitage benefits us directly unless we are giving retreats, for instance, and have legitimate expenses connected with that which benefits others. (501(c)3's are not allowed to benefit directly from the money coming to the institution.) Apparently, however, for those diocesan hermits who depend on benefactors 501(c)3 is helpful because it allows those donating to the hermit's upkeep to get a tax break (a deduction) on their donations. How it is that the income coming in in such circumstances is not considered to benefit the hermit directly is hard to fathom.

This is not an area I am particularly expert on myself since I have not decided to use 501(c)3 to establish myself or my hermitage as a non-profit. I keep thinking I will ask an attorney about the possibilities in case I am missing some benefit that might assist me in living my life and pursuing my mission, but I haven't done so. Also, questions on this matter have been infrequent so beyond affirming the possibility of 501(c)3, I have not needed to write much about it. Your own question is pretty straightforward, however. To summarize, consecrated (that is, canonical) Catholic hermits or hermitages are allowed by the Church and the US Tax code to establish themselves/their hermitages as non-profits under 501(c)3, but this is only feasible in certain circumstances. Each hermit who is publicly professed and consecrated under c 603 is encouraged to consider the benefits of doing this for themselves with the aid and advice of a civil attorney.

Once More on Right-handed vs Left-handed Power

[[Dear Sister Laurel, why doesn't God work through what you called "right-handed power"? Do you think maybe Jesus didn't have the power or authority to do this really? I know contemporary biblical scholars used to poo poo the idea that God did miracles or that Jesus was "just" a miracle or wonder worker. And yet, if Jesus could do such miracles why did he have to die on the cross? Why didn't he save himself and us by curing everyone? Am I making sense?]]

Thanks for the questions! Let me answer in terms of Mark's gospel and something from my own experience as well. In Mark's gospel one question dominates Jesus' life, namely, "What is the will of God?" A second question comes up as Jesus' corollary, namely, "What kind of Messiah will I be?" or in other terms, "In what way will I exercise power to bring the will of God to fulfillment; will it be right-handed power or left-handed power? Through the first thirty-some years of Jesus' life he has been shaped as a Son of God, (in Mark, this is one who truly hears and hearkens to God, as an embodiment of the Shema (Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God is One, you shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart and mind and soul and understanding. . .)) But now, as one with unique power (exousia) or authority, the question of Jesus' own faithfulness to the will of God will be shaped in terms of the questions of right-handed or left-handed power. It will depend on how Jesus understands what God wills.

If Jesus discerns the will of God to be the healing, exorcism, and forgiveness of individuals --- even thousands and thousands and thousands of individuals, then right-handed power could be the answer (and certainly Jesus does use right-handed power!). If God wills that people who have died be revivified (not resurrected to new life), then again, Jesus' use of right-handed power of the kind he used with Lazarus or the little girl to whom he said "Talitha cum" could have been sufficient. But what is the will of God is greater than even these awesome things? What, for instance, if God's will included the actual destruction of sin and death, entrance into these realities to transform them with his presence? What if God willed not just the forgiveness of individuals' sins but the renewal, recreation and reconciliation of all creation in a way which ultimately ends sin and death altogether? What if God willed to take human reality into himself, give it a new context and quality and in this way of transcendence, also heal, exorcise, and forgive?

In such a case Jesus might well come to understand that right-handed power is entirely insufficient for the achievement of his mission and embrace instead a left-handed power exercised in smallness, slowness, patience, perseverance, weakness,  self-emptying, and even in suffering and death! After all, sin and death cannot be destroyed by Divine fiat; they are personal realities, even personal decisions which cannot be undone by mere (even creative and divine) force lest we also be destroyed by those acts of power. Trying to destroy sin and death with right-handed power is a bit like trying to remove yeast from leavened dough or pulling up weeds whose roots are intertwined with those of wheat. Mark is clear that this is precisely what happens and this discernment on Jesus' part shapes not only the kind of Messiah he will be, but the kind of discipleship he will call people to.

Let me give you an illustration of what I mean from my own experience. About 35 years ago I had an experience in prayer that I have written about here in the past. I was having trouble praying, was pushing or trying too hard so my director held out her hands, asked me to rest mine in hers and then asked that I now go ahead and pray as I always did. (One moment of entering prayer felt very like an experience I had whenever I was beginning to have a seizure so it was a moment that frightened me and made it hard to just entrust myself to God. Hence, Sister M's suggestion re resting my hands in her own.) I let myself go into God's hands and the experience over the next 40 minutes was astounding. The details are not so important here except I came away with two foundational senses: 1) this was God, there was no doubt of that, and 2) had God wanted to heal me of the seizure disorder (right-handed power), God certainly could have done so in a heartbeat; once again I had no doubt of that, nor was I troubled that this was not what God chose to do.

The corollary here was the same as we find in the Gospel of Mark, namely, God was asking me for a discipleship that was expressed in patience, perseverance, and a trust in God's vital "seed" that would come slowly, grow ultimately on its own (often while I slept!), and come to fruition in its own time. In other words, God had chosen a left-handed exercise of power which would be perfected in weakness and suffering. Over the past two plus years I have engaged in a process of inner formation that has asked for the same kind of patience and trust. (I was rarely truly successful in that, though I have grown in both patience and trust and am now seeing an amazing harvest beginning to sprout.) The healing and growth is much more extensive than what would have occurred had God simply healed me of my seizure disorder. It involves a kind of transfiguration, I think. Left-handed power works differently than right-handed power and the discipleship associated with it is in some ways, more demanding and geared to greater growth and a more extensive wholeness and holiness which suits one to greater suffering but also, in my own experience anyway, to greater faith, hope, and compassion.

I hope this is helpful. If my answers were not explicit enough in some ways, please get back to me and I'll give it another shot.

Reading the Parables of Jesus in Mark

I have been loving the work I am doing for my parish on Jesus' parables. Every week I have spent time with the parables in preparation something significant has happened in prayer. At the same time the inner work I have been doing with my director these past 2 and a half years or so have been coming together in ways I could never have expected or even imagined. The ability to spend time in prayer, lectio, and personal formation is simply the greatest gift God could have given me and more and more I appreciate the Church admitting me to profession under canon 603 and consecrating me to live this life in her name!! The transition from isolation to solitude continues to be a significant dynamic of my growth/maturation in this vocation. At the same time the sessions we have had at the parish have led to sharing of profound personal stories linked to lectio with the parables and I would call at least one of these a kind of miracle!

Each session has begun with some teaching on the parables, what they are and are not, cultural and theological background, etc. Last week we discussed that parables are less about what they mean than about what they allow to happen, what they make real for us. The task is not so much to interpret the parables as it is to provide enough specific background to allow the group to read and respond to these unique stories. We talked about the nature of performative language or language events and especially the fact that parables are invitations in search of a response, that they don't really exist unless and until someone hears and responds to that invitation!

Because the Church has not traditionally approached reading or interpreting the parables in this way and because it replaces almost 19 C. of allegorical interpretation we then spent 20-30 minutes reading the parable of the Good Samaritan and followed that by looking at the allegorical readings of that parable offered by Origin, Irenaeus, and Augustine. It was gratifying that people felt the way allegory could keep them at arm's length, curtail their own use of imagination, and limit their abilities to enter into the story in whatever way God was inviting them during this reading. Especially folks did not have a sense of Jesus speaking to them in these allegories, nor a sense of being called to a profoundly personal response of their whole selves.

Yesterday we did the second session and focused on the 4th chapter of the Gospel of Mark. This is the chapter with the various seeds parables, the first of only a handful of fully developed parables in the Gospel along with the very difficult sayings re why Jesus teaches in parables and "To the one who has even more will be given; to the one who has not, even the little s/he has will be taken from him/her." Mark prepares for these parables and what they call disciples to during the first three chapters of his Gospel as he looks at who Jesus is (Word incarnate, embodiment of the Shema, embodiment of Wisdom, authentically human being, Messiah, Hearer/Doer of the Word of God (Son of God means this in Mark) etc), at the nature of the Kingdom he brings, and at the conflicts that invariably spring up in the wake of all this. We looked especially then at the issue of right-handed versus left-handed power (the very debate with the devil found in the temptation in the desert stories and the choice Jesus makes as he journeys toward the cross; in Mark this story has a patient Jesus being waited on by God via angels, an image which is reflected in the parables of the seed parables with their demand for patient waiting upon the God who brings growth).

Jesus simply is not the Messiah expected or esteemed by the religious leadership (or Jesus' family for that matter!). Yes, he does act with a hitherto unknown power (exousia) and authority; he heals and exorcises (exercises of straightforward right-handed power); he reveals himself as the embodiment of Wisdom, but throughout the Gospel (and especially after the Transfiguration) he moves more and more towards revealing a Kingdom whose power is perfected in weakness (cf 2 Cor 12:9) and self-emptying, what some call "left-handed power". Meanwhile those who would entrust themselves to Jesus must come to terms with a Kingdom revealed in suffering, littleness, and weakness. Those who do are the "insiders" while those who do not become part of the group of "outsiders;" the boundaries between these two groups are fluid in Mark and we are constantly surprised as "insiders" (Peter, Jesus' family, et al) prove unable to hear Jesus while those who are thought to be outsiders (the Centurion, Syro-Phoenician Woman, various demons, et al) show themselves to know and accept Jesus.

The parable of the sower/soils is seen by some as the "watershed" of all the parables and I think perhaps it is hard for us to see this given how different it is from the dramatic parables we love so much --- parables like the prodigals (Father and two Sons!), the laborers in the vineyard, the Good Samaritan, and so forth. But the parable of the sower/soils along with the parables of the mustard seed and seed growing secretly shows us a Word that comes to us in disproportionate smallness and quietness; the seeds grow "on their own" --- graced realities that need very little help from us beyond planting and harvesting, and of course, they must die to bear fruit! In telling this parable along with the other seed parables of Mark 4, Jesus takes a fateful step away from a Messianism that reveals itself in "right-handed power" and instead into what Robert Farrar Capon calls "the paradox of power" --- a Messianism that will reveal itself exhaustively only in the apparent failure and weakness of the Cross. Do the disciples "get it"? Are they truly "insiders"? Well, no, not according to the ending of chapter 4 --- at least not firmly or solidly so. Terror can still rock their faith.

After Jesus' teaching in the various parables of the seeds and his warning to the disciples that they need to hear him in this, a storm comes up on the sea. Jesus sleeps peacefully without fear and the disciples wake him interrogating him on whether or not he cares that they are going to perish! Jesus does what he can do in response: he stills the storm, an act of right-handed power. The mystery of the Kingdom will be definitively revealed  in abject  weakness on the cross but the disciples are not ready to accept that yet. They cannot see that God's will and Jesus' mission are larger than right-handed power can ever bring about; sin and death cannot be destroyed nor the world reconciled to God with such power. In any case, some of the disciples will never be ready to accept a Messiah who redeems creation through weakness and suffering and others will waver in their commitment to Jesus --- "insiders" one day and "outsiders" the next. Most will grow "from faith to faith" and hearken to Jesus in his parables "as they are able". I think these portraits of discipleship are portraits we each can recognize in our own lives.

P.S.In case you were wondering, we entertained various ways of resolving what is often a riddle (Gk: parabole or Heb., mashal, "riddle") to hearers, "To those who have  even more will be given; to those who have not even the little they have will be taken from them." We added a blank space after "has" and tried several different terms to fill in the blank. Several "worked" fine but the best answer was simply "ears to hear": that is, "To those who have ears to hear even more will be given, to those who have not (got ears to hear), even the little they have will be taken from them." Most of us had automatically (maybe unconsciously) filled  the sentence with possessions, wealth, knowledge, relationships, or any number of things --- afraid what the sentence could actually mean as well as what it said about God and Divine justice! But read in context the solution was pretty straightforward.

Book Recommendations

I picked up a new book today and though I have only read a little of it I wanted to recommend it (or at least bring it to folks' attention in case they have some interest in the topic). The description included with the book reads, [[Through her  evocative intertwined histories of the penitentiary and the monastery, Jane Brox illuminates the many ways silence is far more complex than any absolute; how it has influenced ideas of the self, soul, and society. Brox traces its place as a transformative power in the monastic world from Medieval Europe to the very public life of twentieth century monk Thomas Merton, whose love for silence deepened even as he faced his obligation to speak out against war. This fascinating history of ideas also explores the influence the monastic cell had on one of society’s darkest experiments in silence: Eastern State Penitentiary. Conceived of by one of the Founding Fathers and built on the outskirts of Philadelphia, the penitentiary’s early promulgators imagined redemption in imposed isolation, but they badly misapprehended silence’s dangers.

Finally, Brox’s rich exploration of silence’s complex and competing meanings leads us to imagine how we might navigate our own relationship with silence today, for the transformation it has always promised, in our own lives. ]]

 

I also wanted to recommend two books I have read in the past year or two by the Irish Dominican, Paul Murray, OP. The first is In the Grip of Light, the Dark and Bright Journey of Christian Contemplation. [[What is it like in practice to come close to the presence of God? Are there words which can, in some way, explain the nature of that experience? In this compelling study, Paul Murray draws attention to both the wisdom and lived experience of those men and women who knew, at first hand, of the light and fire of which they speak. Murray demonstrates how important and relevant for us today are the writings of authors such as Catherine of Siena, John of the Cross, Meister Eckhart, and Teresa of Avila. To the often bewildered hearts and minds of our generation, the writings of these remarkable men and women speak with a unique authority.]] Murray's writing is clean and transparent. His sensitivity to language, poetry, the reality of prayer, and the heights and depths of the human heart allow his books to sing a song of hope and joy in minor and major modes both.

 

    The second book is Scars: Essays, Poems and Meditations on Affliction.  I began this last July and finished it last night. In some ways it reminded me of John Ciardi's, How does a Poem Mean? because Fr Murray writes beautifully of the book of Job, Beethoven's use of music to console a suffering friend, Rainer Marie Rilke and how Rilke's poetry sustained Etty Hillesum as she journeyed to her death in an Auschwitz death chamber, and several others. Ciardi once wrote in the introduction to his book (a text I used in a high school poetry class about 52 years ago!) that Poetry is like karate; it has the power to save us when we are caught some night in a dark alley. Paul Murray, OP shares that same sense of the redemptive power of beauty -- whether it comes to us in poetry, music, or otherwise. His stories are touching, inspiring, challenging and consoling.

Besides the section on Job and the stories noted above, one of the sections on the importance of the body for human wholeness and clear rejection of approaches to asceticism that are life denying rather than life affirming are especially wonderful. The last section of the book is a series of meditations on Christ's "Seven Last Words" and reflects on these with a new perspective sure to be helpful to every human being who knows affliction. As anyone who has read any of his work knows already, Fr Paul is a gifted writer!

 

Recently I was able to "meet" himself via some email correspondence re my blog and my vocation as a diocesan hermit. It took me some time (at least a couple of weeks) before I was able to move from a nagging sense of, "Hmmm, Irish Dominican, his name is so familiar; how do I know him?" to a thoroughly embarrassed, "Omigosh, I know his work! I have read at least two of his books!!" Fortunately my Dominican friend, Sue Pixley, OP recognized his name right off and, when we were finally able to get together for coffee this weekend, identified him as the author of a book on Dominican spirituality --- a book she will loan me next weekend! Enjoy; I know I will!!

Bible Study at St Perpetua's: For Bay Area Readers of this Blog

               Gospel Parables: The Heart of Jesus' Teaching

[[Bible study resumes at St Perpetua Catholic Community on Wednesday, February 13, with an 8 week series on the Parables of Jesus presented by Sister Laurel O'Neal, Er Dio. The heart of Jesus' teaching was in parables; these unique stories reflect Jesus' own experience of the Father and are the way He draws us into a similar powerful and transformative experience. The purpose of the series is to provide a deeper understanding of these stories as living instances of the Gospel. It will combine teaching on the parables, time for personal reflection, and related faith sharing. All are welcome!

 

Please note, this series ends just the week before Holy Week (no meeting on Ash Wednesday) and the material will be fruitful for Lent. As attendance allows, if you are interested you may come for either a morning or an evening session -- whichever works better for you. Time: 9:30 - 11:30 am or 7:00-9:00 pm; Place: Chapel. Please bring a Bible and notebook. If you have questions contact Sister Laurel .]]

Can a Priest Be a Diocesan Hermit in One Diocese/Country and Live As a Hermit Under A Second Bishop in Another Diocese/Country?

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I am a priest intending to become a diocesan priest hermit. I will not be living in my own home diocese, however, but will go to a neighboring country. I know that I will have to make profession before the bishop in order to become a proper hermit. I do not intend to change diocese, or become incardinated anywhere else. I will simply be living in another country. The question is this: Can my own bishop give permission to the bishop in the place where I will be living to receive my vows? Is that permitted by Canon Law? It's wonderful to know that there is someone like you willing to help people in these situations. Thank you in anticipation for any help you can give.]]

 

Dear Father, Thanks for your question. It is gratifying that you would write. My understanding is that under c 603 one must live in the diocese in which one is professed. Remember the canon is explicit in this, the hermit makes profession "in the hands of the local bishop". I suspect this language is what prompted your question, but it is for this reason that c 603 hermits are called diocesan hermits. A person may move to another diocese and remain a diocesan hermit if and only if the new bishop agrees to receive his/her vows. When this occurs he becomes the hermit's legitimate superior and also has agreed --- at least in principle --- to be open to discerning and professing other canon 603 vocations in his diocese. (Remember, not all bishops/dioceses have opened themselves to implementing canon 603.)

 

The situation you outline is very different and is, though not intentionally perhaps, capable of being perceived as a way of sidestepping both the stability of the vocation, the sense that this vocation is a gift of God to the local Church, and the ability of either the remote or the local bishop to act effectively as legitimate superior. It could be remarked that the situation you are describing also tends to weaken the ecclesial nature of the vocation and would, at least potentially, set a destructive precedent or at least be unhelpful to those persons in the beginnings of considering or discerning vocations as diocesan hermits.

Let me point out that canonical profession is not needed to be a "proper" hermit. We have lay hermits and priests living as hermits --- both without public vows (and often without private vows either). Canonical vows (part of the larger act the Church recognizes as profession) are needed to live and represent eremitical life as a Catholic Hermit, that is, in the name of the Church. If you wish to live as a hermit your bishop can give you permission to do so; strictly speaking you do not need to be professed as a diocesan hermit under c 603. You could, if you desired, make private vows with your bishop as witness (though he would not be "receiving" these vows in the name of the church; that would require profession under c 603). One problem with this option or the next is that in my experience, bishops are generally very reluctant to give permission to diocesan priests to become hermits; not only does the priest shortage make this difficult but the long period of discernment and preparation in one being admitted to the Sacrament of Orders strongly suggests that, short of a life-changing event or circumstances, eremitical life is contrary to the person's true vocation. 

Difficulties aside, if you wish to be a diocesan hermit, that is, a solitary canonical or solitary Catholic hermit, you could do that by making profession in the hands of your local bishop if he were to give permission; if you wished the second bishop to subsequently receive these vows and change your residence he would need to agree. Were you simply to move out of the professing diocese without required approval of the receiving bishop, your vows would cease to be binding due to a material change in the terms of profession. If you were to continue living in a different country and make profession in the diocese of incardination, the requirements of c 603 ("in the hands of the local bishop") would be violated and your profession would likely be invalid.

Also, I believe as a matter of true governance (and your own responsibility), acceptance of responsibility for your vocation and vows by the second bishop would also require your incardination in the new diocese. What I cannot envision is incardination as priest in one diocese and profession (or reception of one's vows/vocation) and consequent standing as a diocesan hermit in another. In such a case you would be a single subject attempting to live under the canonical authority of two different bishops and that strikes me as incoherent with neither bishop really having true jurisdiction. I doubt a bishop can simply relinquish authority in the way you have described.

Since I am not a canonist, however, I will refer you to one whom I know and trust with particular expertise with canon 603 but also in matters having to do with ordained and consecrated life more generally. While I believe I have given you accurate information, a second opinion might be of assistance. Meanwhile, I hope my response is helpful both as a direct answer to your question and as a way of thinking further about canon 603 vocations. Whether private or public commitment, whichever option you choose, I wish you good luck in your journey to/in eremitical life!

N.B. The canonist mentioned above commented on the submitted question and essentially noted that it was a matter of jurisdiction and that a priest could not be bound in obedience to two different bishops in two different dioceses. Incardination binds a priest in obedience to the local ordinary; so does canon 603. The first bishop has no jurisdiction over affairs in the second diocese and so, cannot act to delegate authority or give permission in the way described in the question --- something I had not thought of at all myself!