Why is Star Trek Easier to Imagine than the Ascension? (Reprise)

[[ Hi Sister Laurel, in your post on the Ascension you said that it was difficult for us to believe that Jesus was raised bodily into "heaven". You suggested it might be easier to imagine the Star Trek story as true instead. I wondered why you said that. Thank you.]]

I appreciate your question. Thanks. We humans tend to draw distinct lines between the spiritual and the material and often we rule out any idea that has the two interpenetrating the other or being related in paradoxical ways. We simplify things in other ways as well. For instance, do you remember when the Soviet Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin first orbited earth and made a pronouncement that he had now been to space, had looked and looked for God and did not find him? The notion that God's relation to the cosmos was other than as a visible (and material) being among other material beings present in "the heavens" was completely beyond this man's ideology or imagination. The idea of God as Being itself, a being that grounded and was the source of all existence while transcending it all was simply too big an idea for this Cosmonaut. Imagine what he would have done with the notion that everything that exists now exists or is on its way to existing within the very life of God! (Gagarin is now said never to have affirmed this; instead Soviet authorities did and used his flight to do so.)

Another example might be better. When I was young, I went to a Christian Scientist Church and Sunday School. There, every Sunday we recited what was called, "The Scientific Statement of Being". It was a bit of neo-Platonic "dogma" written by Mary Baker Eddy. It was the heart of the faith: [[There is no life, truth, intelligence, nor substance in matter. All is infinite Mind and its infinite manifestation, for God is All-in-All. Spirit is immortal truth; matter is mortal error. Spirit is the real and eternal; matter the unreal and temporal. Spirit is God, and man is his image and likeness. Therefore, man is not material; he is spiritual.]] By the time I was seven or eight I was questioning what it meant to say matter is unreal (or, more often, how could I be asked to deny the truth of matter's reality). Imagine what it was like to fall off your bike and tell yourself the blood and pain was "unreal" --- only Spirit is real. 

The answers never satisfied, but I think you get the point. The human mind has always had difficulty not drawing a distinction between the material and the Spiritual even to asserting the two things are antithetical --- even to the extent of denying either matter or spirit actually exists at all.  (Christian Science said matter was unreal, not just in the Platonic sense of being less real than the ideal, but in the sense of asserting that materiality is delusional; on the other hand, contemporary science often says anything except matter is unreal.) An incarnate God, or a God who would make room within his very life for embodied existence like ours (in whatever form that embodiment occurs) would be anathema and literally inconceivable to either of these! So yes, we often suspend disbelief in reading science fiction or fantasy literature in order to enter deeply into the story. But what is also true is that we need to learn to suspend disbelief in intelligent ways in order to appreciate the Mystery of God and the cosmos; we need to do this in order to enter deeply into this great drama. Star Trek's stories may seem easier to believe than stories of the Ascension because the Mystery we call God is greater than anything we can create or even imagine ourselves.

One last point. When I was studying theology (either BA or MA) my professor answered the question, "What do I do if I cannot believe in God?" His answer was, "I would encourage you to act as though it (God's existence) is true and see what happens." My own objection at the time was that that would be encouraging people to engage in pretense, not real faith, and John responded further, " Perhaps it seems like that superficially, but what would really be happening is that one would be opening oneself [or remaining open] to allow those things that God alone can do." Another way of saying this is to affirm, one would thus be refusing to close oneself to the Holy Spirit. Once one allowed this openness, one would then compare the differences in one's life before such an openness and afterward. I didn't find John Dwyer's initial answer much more convincing then than I found the Christian Science answer re: matter's unreality when I was 7 or 8 yo, but I also mistakenly thought my faith was strong and sufficient. 

I now know that learning to trust (and to be open to Mystery) in the way John described is both more difficult and more intelligent than any cynical skepticism scientific materialism offers us today. And one grows in faith (thanks be to God)! I have experienced things in my life which God alone could do, and I recognize the wisdom (and the humility!!) of John Dwyer's advice to students believing they were atheists or that faith was naive, namely, that they suspend their disbelief, open themselves to new ways of seeing, and see what happens. Of course, this specific form of suspension of disbelief would result in a vocation to commitment to a world itself called to be something ever greater than even the limitations of science can imagine. What is often difficult for us is to understand is that this specific suspension of disbelief is more profoundly wise than science itself can know, or our often-earth-bound imaginations can create.

 Authentic faith, (which, again, is not the same as naive credulity), is something different, and in some ways, both more challenging and compelling than the more superficial suspension of disbelief we adopt when we read science fiction or fantasy literature. The essential difference, I think, is that the first type of suspension of disbelief is a form of chosen naivete adopted temporarily for the sake of recreation and enjoyment; it allows us a vacation from reality, while exercising imagination in the service of creativity. This certainly enlivens us. The second type of suspension of disbelief, that of faith, while also exercising imagination in the same service, requires more than our imagination. It is neither naive nor credulous and requires the whole of ourselves in a more direct commitment to enlivening others; as a result, faith opens us to a more intense and extensive commitment to reality itself and is simply more difficult.

I Go to Prepare a Place for You: Ascension and Jewish Bridal Imagery (Reprise)

So much of what Jesus says about the event we call "Ascension" is meant to remind us of the Jewish theology of marriage. It is meant to remind us that the Church, those called and sent in the name of Jesus, is the Bride of Christ --- both betrothed and awaiting the consummation of this marriage. This Friday's Gospel passage from 16 John prepares the disciples for Jesus' "leaving" and the Church wants us to hear it now in terms of the Ascension rather than the crucifixion. Thus, it focuses on the "in-between" time of grief-at-separation, waiting, and bittersweet joy.

Thus too, especially with its imagery of labor and childbirth, it affirms that though Jesus must leave to prepare a place for us, the grief of his "leaving" (really a new kind of presence) will one day turn to unalloyed joy because with and in Christ something new is being brought to birth both in our own lives and in the very life of God. It is an unprecedented reality, an entirely New Life and too, a source of a joy which no one can take from us. Just as the bridegroom remains a real but bittersweet presence and promise in the life of his betrothed, so Jesus' presence in our own lives is a source of now-alloyed and bittersweet joy, both real and unmistakable but also not what it will be when the whole of creation reaches its fulfillment and the marriage between Christ and his Bride is consummated. The union of this consummation is thus the cosmic union of God-made all in all.

The following post reflects on another Johannine text, also preparing us for the Ascension. I wanted to reprise it here because the Gospel texts this week all seek to remind us of the unadulterated joy of Easter and the Parousia (the second-coming and fulfillment) as they prepare us for the bittersweet joy of the in-between time of Ascension and especially because they do so using the imagery of Jewish marriage. This Friday's childbirth imagery in John 16 presupposes and requires this be fresh in our minds.

The Two Stages of Jewish Marriage

The central image Jesus uses in [speaking of his leaving and eventual return] is that of marriage. His disciples are supposed to hear him speaking of the entire process of man and wife becoming one, of a union which represents that between God and mankind (and indeed, all of creation) which is so close that the two cannot be prised apart or even seen as entirely distinguishable realities. Remember that in Jewish marriages there were two steps: 1) the betrothal which was really marriage and which could only be ended by a divorce, and 2) the taking home and consummation stage in this marriage. After the bridegroom travels to his bride's home and the two are betrothed, the bridegroom returns home to build a place for his new bride in his family's home. It is always meant to be a better place than she had before. When this is finished (about a year later) the bridegroom travels back to his bride and with great ceremony (lighted lamps, accompanying friends, etc) brings her back to her new home where the marriage is consummated.

Descent and the Mediation of God's Reconciling Love:

This image of the dual stages in Jewish marriage is an appropriate metaphor of what is accomplished in the two "stages" in salvation history referred to as descent and ascent. When we think of Jesus as mediator or revealer --- or even as Bridegroom --- we are looking at a theology of salvation (soteriology)  in which God first goes out of himself in search of a counterpart. This God  'empties himself' of divine prerogatives --- not least that of remaining in solitary omnipotent splendor --- and in a continuing act of self-emptying creates the cosmos still in search of that counterpart. For this reason the entire process is known as one of descent or kenosis. Over eons of time and through many intermediaries (including prophets, the Law, and several covenants) he continues to go out of himself to summon the "other" into existence, and eventually chooses a People who will reveal  him (that is, make him known and real) to the nations. Finally and definitively in Jesus he is enabled to turn a human face to his chosen People. As God has done in partial and fragmentary ways before, in Christ as Mediator he reveals himself definitively as a jealous and fierce lover, one who will allow nothing, not even sin and godless death (which he actually takes into himself!)** to separate him from his beloved or prevent him from bringing her home with him when the time comes.

Ascension and the Mediation of God's Reconciling Love:

With Jesus' ascension we are confronted with another dimension of Christ's role as mediator; we celebrate the return of the Bridegroom to his father's house --- that is to the very life of God. He goes there to prepare a place for us. As in the Jewish marriage practice, that Divine "household" (that Divine life) will change in a definitive way with the return of the Son (who has also changed and is now an embodied human being who has experienced death, etc.) just as the Son's coming into the world changed it in a definitive way. God is not yet all in all (that comes later) but in Christ humanity has both assumed and been promised a place in God's own life. As my major theology professor used to say to us, "God has taken death into himself and has not been destroyed by it." That is what heaven is all about, active participation and sharing by that which is other than God in the very life of God. Heaven is not like a huge sports arena where everyone who manages to get a ticket stares at the Jumbo Tron (God) and possibly plays harps or sing psalms to keep from getting too bored. With the Christ Event God changes the world and reconciles it to himself, but with that same event the very life of God himself is changed as well. The ascension signals this significant change as embodied humanity and all of human experience becomes a part of the life of the transcendent God who is eternal and incorporeal. Some "gods" would be destroyed by this, but not the God of Jesus Christ!

Summary

Mediation (or revelation) occurs in two directions in Christ. Christ IS the gateway between heaven and earth, the "place" where these two realities meet and kiss, the new Temple where sacred and profane come together and are transfigured into a single reality. Jesus as mediator implicates God into our world and all of its moments and moods up to and including sin and godless death. But Jesus as mediator also allows human life, and eventually all of creation to be implicated in and assume a place in God's own life. When this double movement comes to its conclusion, when it is accomplished in fullness and Jesus' commission to reconciliation is entirely accomplished, when, that is, the Bridegroom comes forth once again to finally bring his bride home for the consummation of their marriage, there will be a new heaven and earth where God is all in all; in this parousia both God and creation achieve the will of God together as it was always meant to be.
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** Note: the Scriptures recognize two forms of death. The first is a kind of natural perishing. The second is linked to sin and to the idea that if we choose to live without God we choose to die without him. It is the consequence of sin. This second kind is called variously, sinful death, godless death, eternal death or the second death. This is the death Jesus "takes on" in taking on the reality and consequences of human sinfulness; it is the death he dies while (in his own sinlessness) remaining entirely vulnerable and open to God. It is the death his obedience (openness) allows God to penetrate and transform with his presence.

The resurrection is the event symbolizing the defeat of this death and the first sign that all death will one day fall to the life and love of God. Ascension is the event symbolizing God taking humanity into his own "house", his own life in Christ. We live in hope for the day the promise of Ascension will be true for the whole of God's creation, the day when God will be all in all.

Can a Transsexual Person be admitted to Profession and Consecration Under C 603?

[[ Dear Sister, would the church profess or consecrate a transsexual (transgender?) as a diocesan hermit? I don't want to give more details. I just wondered if there are any hard and fast rules about this. Would you encourage a transsexual to seek profession and consecration under c 603? It seems to me that since there is no community, no one would be particularly troubled much less harmed by such an act. Are you aware of any transsexuals who are diocesan hermits? Thanks.]]

Thanks for your questions. Let me begin with some comments about transgender persons and sacraments as a preliminary to answering your questions. This might give you an introductory sense of how seriously the church takes the question of allowing transgendered persons to be professed and consecrated as religious. From all that I have read about the church's stance on transgendered persons in this regard, two considerations are always raised: 1) the honesty or lack of honesty involved (including self-honesty, potential self-deception, or questions of personal transparency), and 2) the possibility of scandal. The person involved must be acting freely, openly, and transparently, and there must be no cause for scandal. Still, there is relatively little out there in writing from the church. In speaking about the sacraments, for instance, the church only speaks of baptism as clearly open to transgendered persons (and some dioceses may still be disputing that). After that, things become even more complicated. Even having a transgendered person serving as a godparent for someone is not without complications. While religious profession and consecration are not sacraments, admission of a transgendered person to these definitive steps of public commitment within religious life raises even more difficult questions that also revolve around the questions of honesty or personal integrity and scandal.

Consecrated Life: A Call to Foundational Womanliness or Manliness

With consecrated eremitical life, some of these same questions apply whether we are speaking of semi-eremitical life or solitary eremitism under c 603. Remember that the profession of a diocesan hermit is a public commitment with public rights and obligations. This means the whole church has a right to hold certain expectations concerning the one being professed and/or consecrated. The most fundamental of these, no matter whether the person identifies as male or female, has to do with their foundational womanliness or manliness and their fulfillment**. Are they gifting God and the Church with their lives in this way because they (and those discerning with them!) sincerely believe they are being called to human wholeness and holiness (including a recognizable psycho-sexual maturity) in this state of life in Christ or is there something else at play here? Stated another way, are they embracing this life because they (and those discerning with them) feel assured that God's love for them calls and will bring them to psycho-sexual maturity, that is, to the highest expressions of manliness or womanliness one may achieve in this way or not? Will they witness to this foundational task and achievement as well as to the way God's non-gendered and self-sacrificial love makes it both a possibility and reality? 

First and foremost, a vocation to eremitical life is a call to human wholeness and holiness in loving dialogue with God in the silence of solitude. This can occur in the presence of various forms of gender dis-ease or gender dysphoria and other significant limitations. One gives the whole of oneself (including one's dis-ease) in the trust and expectation that God completes and makes one truly and fully alive in Christ with the abundant life promised in the Gospels. In fact, because the hermit gives up the use of so many specific gifts necessary for active ministry, this particular witness seems to me to be the essence of the eremitical call. The God of Jesus Christ is affirmed as the One who loves us just as we are and empowers us to love and live with whatever difficulties our lives include. We suffer with and in Christ in ways that witness to God's power to make sense of even life's worst apparent absurdities. We approach this promised achievement with hope that in giving ourselves totally (including what seems "broken" within us, so too will we find, complete, and transcend ourselves in Christ, and we do this for the sake of others who need and seek the same redemption and fulfillment.

The Church does not Recognize. . .

The church does not recognize that a person's fundamental manliness or womanliness (even as incipient) changes with gender-affirming transition. Moreover, the church identifies this fundamental given as consonant with one's sex at birth. Certainly, dimensions of one's fundamental manliness or womanliness are affected by hormones, genetic manipulation, and surgery, though in Catholic theology, these changed dimensions are not identical to a change in one's fundamental womanliness or manliness, one's foundational sexuality. Despite a person's profound and painful dis-ease with his or her assigned birth sex, that sexual identity remains a gift and a task s/he is meant to realize in psycho-sexual maturity within whatever given limitations or seeming inconsistencies there may be. Assuming no intersex problems cause physician errors in determining sex, the church's current teaching on admitting a suitable candidate*** to profession and consecration is clear: if one is born (or determined to be) female at birth, one must be professed and/or consecrated as a female; if born male, then profession/consecration must be as a male. 

Though this is a dimension of one's vocation most will recognize in terms of the vow to chastity in celibacy, when the church clothes the candidate in religious garb or styles the person Brother or Sister it also reflects this truth. Given the church's own teaching here, how is the church to clothe and address a transgendered person who was originally female for instance? Though fundamentally a woman in the church's eyes, does this person style herself as Brother  X_____ and represent a call to authentic manliness? 

The church sees a profound contradiction here on the most fundamental human level; what one claims (to be) and proclaims at profession conflicts with one's natural sexual identity, and for this reason, the church does not admit someone living as a transgendered person to profession or consecration. To do so would be dishonest and, if the professing bishop allowed the faith community to know about it in an entirely transparent way, it would cause significant scandal. (For that matter, were the bishop admitting a transgendered person to profession and consecration to knowingly withhold this from the faith community participating in the profession I think that too would legitimately cause significant scandal.)

In approaching your questions, I began with the most foundational element or dimension of the hermit's life because it is deeper and more extensive than the changes involved in gender-affirming transitions can change or achieve. It can be argued that the Evangelical Counsels and particularly the vow of chastity in celibacy (consecrated celibacy) can be understood in terms of this foundational identity as well as in other terms that may be more familiar to readers. Chastity in celibacy deals with integrity in relationships and the commitment to love others in the way Christ loved; thus, it also implies being true to one's fundamental manliness or womanliness to carry all of this out. As I understand the church's position, if gender (that is, the subjective experience of sexuality) fails to match one's sexuality (an objective reality not necessarily dependent upon or consonant with one's experience of one's sexuality), and one cannot love oneself as created and called to be, the ability to make a binding vow of chastity becomes problematic. 

Are there Currently Transsexual Diocesan Hermits?

I am not aware of any transgendered persons who have been professed or consecrated as diocesan hermits. I am personally aware of only one transgender person who sought profession under c 603 several years ago. I opposed his admission to profession (he is a trans male), but N.B., I did not do so based on the fact that he was transgendered  per se, but instead because he approached profession as a solitary hermit deceitfully and fraudulently. This person told me he (purportedly along with his bishop) planned on using the canon as a "matter [or way] of [achieving] justice" and was clear he was using the canon as a stopgap way to get publicly professed, something he knew from reading this blog that I have objected to. (He claimed to have discerned a call to "public profession" but not to eremitical life; the church does NOT recognize such a call apart from particular forms of religious life which may then require public vows.) There were other issues as well (bishop-shopping for an amenable bishop, an intention to create (or join) a community after consecration, the use of temporary profession to experiment and "gather data" on whether or not this life was a fit at all, among others), and in each of these, some degree of pretense and bad faith were apparent. Thus too, the validity of such a profession would have been questionable at best. (One canonist who was consulted opined the profession/vows would be invalid (cf c 656.4 and On Withholding the Truth), while another suggested sacrilege could also be involved were such a profession attempted.)

As you might surmise, this instance of a proposed profession raises several important questions. The one I want to focus on here has to do with using profession and consecration as a means to take a stand on something one considers unjust in the church, or for any other reason than expressing and embracing a genuine sense of a call to consecrated life (and in this case, to solitary eremitic consecrated life). Canon 603 sometimes seems a simple canon for folks to seek profession under even when they have not discovered or discerned a truly eremitical vocation. Artists or scholars of all sorts might like to do something like this while they write or paint or work on dramatic, cultural, and research projects; sometimes such folks justify the peace and solitude needed for such careers in terms of a too-casually defined "eremitism".  Authentic hermits know that the heart of the eremitic vocation is not writing, other artistic pursuits, or research even when hermits may also do these things. To call these (much less oneself) "eremitical" simply because they require silence and solitude is a distortion of what eremitical life lived in the name of the Church is all about. Still, it is easy to "justify" this kind of distortion of the vocation by asking the question (along with its implied negative answer) that you have raised yourself, "Whom does it hurt?"

As I have written before in Whom does it hurt?, and also On Intervening in Professions, any kind of fraud is harmful, particularly when it concerns an institution that depends on trust and Gospel witness to the truth as well as to what is possible when one lives for, with, in, and from God in the silence of solitude. I simply cannot see any justification in the kinds of deception present in such instances when one is (ostensibly) petitioning to live consecrated eremitical life in the name of the same Church one is essentially thumbing one's nose at in the very same act. That is especially true when other ecclesial communities (including sacramental ones like the Episcopal Church, for example) allow individuals to be publicly professed as solitary religious without concern for sexual identity or a requirement that these religious purposely live genuinely eremitical lives. As you can see, questions of personal integrity, transparency, and the potential for scandal are significant in matters like this. Thus, until church teaching and praxis on this changes, though I might encourage them to explore life as a non-canonical hermit, I would not encourage a person identifying as transsexual to seek profession and/or consecration as a c 603 hermit.

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Notes:

Please note that language referring to trans persons is fluid and relatively idiosyncratic. For an introductory summary of how various terms are generally defined, please see https://www.apa.org/topics/lgbtq/transgender-people-gender-identity-gender-expression. Especially helpful is the discussion of the distinction between sexual orientation and gender.

**In Catholic Theology and in this blog essay, sexuality is used to refer to the most foundational call to womanliness or manliness, not merely in terms of superficial social roles and expectations or even in terms of mere biology. It is deeper and more expansive than these while, especially in terms of one's given biology, it remains generally consistent with these. In Catholic theology, the whole person is sexual. There are distinctively manly and womanly ways of understanding, feeling, and acting. Everything we think, or imagine, our motivations and perceptions of or responses to value are conditioned by the fact that we exist either as men or as women. Catholic theology affirms this is true even in the presence of gender dysphoria, and whether or not a person self-identifies as male, female, or some non-binary alternative (transgender, transsexual, mx, zie, or hir) precisely because this manliness or womanliness is deeper and more fundamental than gender identity itself. 

*** As  I understand it, a suitable candidate would need first to "detransition" and then live and discern the vocation just as any other person would do. The same conditions, requirements, time frames, and so forth would have to be met including medical and psychological testing. One would need to go through the usual stages of such a life, particularly concerning the development of a contemplative life that then calls for even greater solitude. There would need to be a special assurance that the candidate was not using c 603 in some ulterior way as a stopgap to profession.

The Silence of Solitude: More than the Sum of its Parts

[[Dear Sister, you have written that "the silence of solitude is more than the sum of its parts". I wondered if you could say something about what that means? When you read my [proposed] Rule for c 603 you encouraged me to explore this but I am not sure what you mean by that. Help!!]]

Thanks for the question and for permission to share it here. Canon 603 has some important and non-negotiable terms that serve as markers or defining qualities for a solitary eremitical life --- whether this is lived in the name of the Church (603.2) or not. As I approach these qualities I recognize that they point to whole worlds the solitary hermit explores rather than being terms with single, easily definable meanings. They are doorways to Mystery, not ends in themselves. "The silence of solitude" is one of these terms because it is more than the sum of its parts. By that I mean that c 603 does not merely say "silence and solitude" which would tend to refer primarily to external silence and physical solitude. Instead,  "the silence of solitude" refers to the fruit of a life of external silence and physical solitude, coupled with assiduous prayer and penance, stricter separation from the world, and the Evangelical Counsels, all lived for the praise of God, and the salvation of others.

Yes, a hermit lives a contemplative life in external silence and physical solitude but this contemplative life bears fruit in what the canon refers to as the silence of solitude. This fruit differs from mere external silence and physical solitude. For instance, external silence may mean the absence or relative absence of created sound. It refers to an element of a context required for living one's hermit life. Physical solitude tends to mean the absence or relative absence of others in the hermitage and the isolated or relatively isolated location of the hermitage itself. But note that these merely set the stage for the eremitical life; they don't constitute it --- at least not as the church understands and codifies it. One adds the other terms of the canon and lives into them more and more deeply. As one does that, the result will be "the silence of solitude" where the hermit grows more and more profoundly related to God and others in God. 

When this happens the isolation of physical solitude is transcended in an inner relatedness in God and becomes a form of community --- it has a sense of being with and for others through and in external silence and physical solitude. Silence begins to speak and, in particular, in the compassion that develops through one's prayer, "loneliness", and the inner work made both possible and necessary by these, one begins to hear and be a response to the cry of anguish of the world around one.

It is fascinating to me that the silence of solitude represents a form of deep communion and community. That seems to be the complete opposite of "silence and solitude". Really though, it is radically paradoxical like many truly Christian realities. Note too that "the silence of solitude" points to the healing and quieting of one's own woundedness precisely so that compassion and the capacity for compassion may develop within oneself. This can require significant inner work as well as assiduous prayer, and gradually, as such work is accomplished, there is a quieting of personal anguish allowing one to open oneself to the anguish of the world around one. When I hear the phrase "the silence of solitude", the word silence there reminds me of this inner healing where one moves from being an isolated scream of anguish incapable of being truly open to the pain of others and instead, through the grace of God, becomes a kind of compassionate listening presence in the world.

This is a little of what I mean by my encouragement that you explore the difference between a life of silence and solitude and a life characterized by the silence of solitude. Canon 603 calls for the latter even though it includes and requires the former!! The silence of solitude is a fruit of the eremitical life. It is more than the sum of its parts since those parts (external silence and physical solitude) could just as well belong to a life given to unhealthy withdrawal from others and the silence or muteness of deep woundedness as to a life of wholeness and compassion! Hermits commit to exploring the depths of the silence of solitude and living it more and more profoundly for the sake of a wounded and noisy world. As they do they will discover it is not merely a context for living their eremitical lives, but a goal of that life and a charism or gift that they offer to this same wounded and noisy world.

Please get back to me if this is not helpful or helpful enough.

Canon 603, Desert Spirituality, and Chronic Illness or Disability

[[Hi Sister, I just wondered if it was right to exclude someone from profession just because they have a chronic illness or disability. I know that religious communities do this because they feel the person can't keep up or do all the things active ministry requires, but how does this work with eremitical life? You write about chronic illness as vocation so I thought you might have already written about this. If you have, could you point me to where I might find that? Thanks!]]

Thanks for this question. It is an important one and one I care about more than most. I get occasional anecdotal information about this question from hermits seeking to be professed under c 603 in various dioceses. Still, I have only received a report about one diocese that excluded a candidate because of chronic illness per se; in this case, they cited the impediment to orders 1044.1 which struck me negatively in several ways. First, the candidate was not petitioning for admission to orders or to a highly social lifestyle. This made the canon noted doubly irrelevant, nor did the diocese have a general prohibition on professing anyone with any history of mental illness. If there was some such history (the canon still uses the terms "insanity" and "psychic defect") it needed to be assessed in terms of the solitary eremitical vocation and the candidate him or herself. 

Also, a diocese needs to be able to give sufficient time and attention to discerning such a vocation or simply refuse to profess anyone under c 603. In the case mentioned here, this "impediment" was only noted after the candidate was asked to write a Rule of Life and had worked hard on it. (Writing a Rule is not an easy project; moreover, it takes a significant period of time, prayer, reflection, and probably, several consultations with a mentor to complete an adequate (liveable) Rule that is deeply rooted in both c 603 and the candidate's lived experience. Dioceses must understand all of this before requesting someone even begin writing their Rule, particularly if one is planning on using something like C 1044.1 as an absolute impediment to eremitical life.) Thus, in this case, the chancery's decision and justification struck me as lazy, essentially dishonest, and disrespectful. Again, it is not a surprise to find a diocese not understanding c 603 or vocations lived under it, but applying c 1044.1 after several meetings with the candidate coupled with the prior request that s/he write a Rule of Life, offends against the canon and the candidate pursuing profession under it.

Chronic Illness and the Desert Vocation:

It is especially important that a diocese recognizes that eremitical life is a desert vocation with desert spirituality at its heart. By definition, chronic illness is itself a profound desert experience. The Gospel that eremitical life witnesses to is the Gospel of a God whose power is perfected and most perfectly revealed in weakness. (2 Cor 12:9) Thus, dioceses who have a good sense of the vocation in general, will recognize not only that each vocation must be individually discerned, but that various forms of chronic illness, far from serving as impediments to eremitical life, may be important formative influences that allow one to form an essentially eremitical heart long before one embraces eremitical life in a formal or even a conscious way. This is a really critical element of the discernment of such vocations that flies in the face of much writing about eremitical life focusing on its austerity and physical demands.

While some few contemporary eremitical vocations may look like images of eremitical life drawn from past centuries and instances of solitary eremitical life, and while it remains true that this vocation is demanding and should not be watered down, it is also true that theologies of prayer, penance, the silence of solitude, and the other central elements of the canon have shifted some to allow the demands of the life to be primarily spiritual and holistic, not narrowly physical. What cannot be lost sight of is the desert character of the calling and our expanding sense of the myriad ways such a vocation is encountered and expressed. 

Similarly, we cannot forget what it means to witness to the Gospel in significant and fruitful ways for the praise of God and the salvation of others. Hermits are not navel-gazing nutcases who isolate themselves from the larger world for fear of being contaminated nor because they are on an entirely individualistic quest for holiness. They are individuals committed to living ecclesial lives of wholeness in a unique relationship and dialogue with God. In the silence of solitude, they do this in Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit of love and communion. When this is lived with integrity, others will also come to know that however fragile or threatened their lives, the faithfulness of God will not allow them to return to Him void. This "for others" quality is the reason for everything the hermit lives in her hermitage; it marks every movement toward authentic holiness just as it defines the risen Christ and every member of the Communion of Saints.

For the chronically ill or disabled who are already marked as separated from the world of the differently abled and whose illness isolates them, the solitary eremitical life may be the context in which their anguish and isolation can be redeemed by the love of God. In this context, the hermit becomes a person of prayer meeting the pain of a suffering world with compassion. The poverty of spirit demanded by being chronically ill can be transformed into the inner wealth of one who knows s/he is deeply regarded by God. Many of the values associated with our consumerist world, the ways meaning and success are measured are countered by the hermit, especially the chronically ill hermit. To be a person who encounters the pain and anguish of the world with the compassion of eremitical prayer is to share in the fundamental vocation of Jesus. It is to live a penitential life oriented toward health and wholeness and builds on the suffering already built into human life. Dioceses need to be able to see the possibilities chronic illness and/or disability create for authentic eremitical life.

All that considered, it remains true that not all chronic illnesses lend themselves to eremitical life. This is especially true of some forms of mental illness. More to the point, however, not every person with a chronic illness will be able to come to live and pray their illness in the way a solitary hermit must come to do.  While endurance is important, one is called to do more than endure the illness; one is called to allow it to become subject and transparent to the transforming love of God so the world might be blessed by it and the life of the one who suffers from it. The bottom line in all of this, however, is that the diocesan team or personnel charged with discerning and assisting in the formation of the solitary hermit must discern on a case-by-case basis with the requirements of c 603 and the life it envisions uppermost in mind. To answer your question in your own terms, No, it is wrong to exclude someone from profession and consecration under c 603 merely on the basis of a chronic illness.

Easter and the Realization of God's Will to be Emmanuel (Reprise)

Several years ago I did a reflection for my parish. I noted that all through Advent we sing Veni, Veni, Emmanuel, and pray that God will come and really reveal Godself as Emmanuel, the God who is with us. I also noted that we may not always realize the depth of meaning captured in the name Emmanuel. We may not realize, for instance, the degree of solidarity with us and the whole of creation it points to. 

There are several reasons for our failures here. First, we tend to use Emmanuel only during Advent and Christmastide so we stop reflecting on the meaning or theological implications of the name. Secondly, we are used to thinking of a relatively impersonal God borrowed from Greek philosophy; he is omnipresent -- rather like air is present in our lives and he is impassible, incapable of suffering in any way. Because he is omnipresent, God seems already to be "Emmanuel" so we are unclear what is really being added to what we know (and what is now true!!) of God.  Something is similarly true because of God's impassibility which seems to make God incapable of suffering with us or feeling compassionate toward us. (We could say something similar regarding God's immutability, etc. Greek categories are inadequate for understanding a living God who wills to be Emmanuel with all that implies.) And thirdly, we tend to forget that the word "reveal" does not only mean "to make known," but also "to make real in space and time." The eternal and transcendent God who is revealed in space and time as Emmanuel is the God who, in Christ, enters exhaustively into the most profoundly historical and personal lives and circumstances of his Creation and makes these part of his own life in the process.

Thus, just as the Incarnation of the Word of God happens over the whole of Jesus' life and death and not merely with Jesus' conception or nativity, so too does God require the entire life and death of Jesus to achieve the degree of solidarity with us that makes him the Emmanuel he wills to be. There is a double "movement" involved here, the movement of descent and ascent, kenosis and theosis. Not only does God in Christ become implicated in the whole of human experience and the realm of human history but in that same Christ God takes the whole of the human situation and experience into Godself. We talk about this by saying that through the Christ Event heaven and earth interpenetrate one another and one day God will be all in all or, again, that "the Kingdom of God is at hand." John the Evangelist says it again and again with the language of mutual indwelling and union: "I am in him and he is in me," "he who sees me sees the one who sent me", "the Father and I are One." Paul affirms its dimensions in Romans 8 when he exults, "Nothing [at all in heaven or on earth] can separate us from the Love of God."

And so, in Jesus' life and active ministry, the presence of God is made real in space and time in an unprecedented way --- that is, with unprecedented authority, compassion, and intimacy. He companions and heals us; he exorcises our demons, teaches, feeds, forgives and sanctifies us. He is mentor, brother, and Lord. He bears our stupidities and fear, our misunderstandings, resistance, and even our hostility and betrayals. But the revelation of God as Emmanuel means much more besides; as we move into the Triduum we begin to celebrate the exhaustive revelation, the exhaustive realization of an eternally-willed solidarity with us whose extent we can hardly imagine. In Christ and especially in his passion and death God comes to us in the unexpected and even the unacceptable place. Three dimensions of the cross especially allow us to see the depth of solidarity with us that our God embraces and achieves in Christ: failure, suffering unto death, and lostness or godforsakenness. Together they reveal our God as Emmanuel --- the one who is with us as the one from whom nothing can ever ultimately separate us because in Christ those things become part of God's own life.

Jesus comes to the cross ostensibly having failed in his mission. (From one perspective we could say that had he succeeded completely there would have been no betrayal, no trial, no torture, and no crucifixion.) Jesus had spoken truth to power all throughout his ministry. On the cross, this comes to a climax and in the events of Jesus' passion, the powers and principalities of this world appear to swallow him up. But even as this occurs and Jesus embraces the weight of the world's darkness and deathliness, Jesus remains open to God and trusts in his capacity to redeem any failure; thus even failure, but especially this one, can serve the Kingdom of God. Jesus suffers to the point of death and suffers more profoundly than any person in history we can name --- not because he hurt more profoundly than others but because he was more vulnerable to it and chose to embrace that vulnerability and all the world threw at him without mitigation. Suffering per se is not salvific, but Jesus' openness and responsiveness to God (that is, his obedience) in the face of suffering is. Thus, suffering even unto death is transformed into a potential sacrament of God's presence. Finally, Jesus suffers the lostness of godforsakenness or abandonment by God --- the ultimate separation from God due to sin. This is the meaning of not just death but death on a cross. In this death, Jesus again remains open (obedient) to the God who reveals himself most exhaustively as Emmanuel and takes even the lostness of sin and death into himself and makes these his own. After all, as the NT reminds us, it is the sick and lost for whom God in Christ comes.

As I have noted before, John C. Dwyer, my major Theology professor for BA and MA work back in the 1970's described God's revelation of self on the cross (God's making himself known and personally present even in those places from whence we exclude him or believe he should never be found) --- the exhaustive coming of God as Emmanuel --- in this way:

[[Through Jesus, the broken being of the world enters the personal life of the everlasting God, and this God shares in the broken being of the world. God is eternally committed to this world, and this commitment becomes full and final in his personal presence within this weak and broken man on the cross. In him the eternal One takes our destiny upon himself --- a destiny of estrangement, separation, meaninglessness, and despair. But at this moment the emptiness and alienation that mar and mark the human situation become once and for all, in time and eternity, the ways of God. God is with this broken man in suffering and in failure, in darkness and at the edge of despair, and for this reason suffering and failure, darkness and hopelessness will never again be signs of the separation of man from God. God identifies himself with the man on the cross, and for this reason everything we think of as manifesting the absence of God will, for the rest of time, be capable of manifesting his presence --- up to and including death itself.]]

He continues,

[[Jesus is rejected and his mission fails, but God participates in this failure, so that failure itself can become a vehicle of his presence, his being here for us. Jesus is weak, but his weakness is God's own, and so weakness itself can be something to glory in. Jesus' death exposes the weakness and insecurity of our situation, but God made them his own; at the end of the road, where abandonment is total and all the props are gone, he is there. At the moment when an abyss yawns beneath the shaken foundations of the world and self, God is there in the depths, and the abyss becomes a ground. Because God was in this broken man who died on the cross, although our hold on existence is fragile, and although we walk in the shadow of death all the days of our lives, and although we live under the spell of a nameless dread against which we can do nothing, the message of the cross is good news indeed: rejoice in your fragility and weakness; rejoice even in that nameless dread because God has been there and nothing can separate you from him. It has all been conquered, not by any power in the world or in yourself, but by God. When God takes death into himself it means not the end of God but the end of death.]] Dwyer, John C., Son of Man Son of God, a New Language for Faith, p 182-183.

Beginning the Easter Season: First steps into a Life of Hope

Christ is Risen, Alleluia, Alleluia!!! All good wishes for a wonderful Easter Season!!

For the next 50 days, we have time to attend to what Jesus' death and resurrection changed. In light of these events we live in a different world than existed before they occurred, and we ourselves, by virtue of our Baptism into Christ's death, are new creations as well. We have been embraced by God and live as God's daughters and sons, heirs of the inheritance he grants us. While all this makes beautiful poetry, it is also all true in the profound ways the very best poetry is true. Objective reality was transformed with Jesus' passion and death; something astounding, universal, even cosmic in scope, happened in these events which had to do with our own salvation and the recreation of all of reality. One of Paul's shorthand phrases for this transformation was "the death of death," something I hope to be able to look at a bit more as these 50 days unfold. Especially, I would like to look at the way we have become an integral part of God's story, the story of his will to bestow himself on and dwell with the whole of creation. 

At this point, it is probably good to recall that the early Church struggled to make sense of the cross, and that faith in Jesus' resurrection took some time to take hold --- though amongst the disciples, that period is greatly abbreviated. Surprisingly, no single theology of the cross is held as official even today, and variations --- many quite destructive --- exist throughout the Church. Many of these mistakenly affirm that God was reconciled to us in various ways rather than the other way around. Only in time did the Church come to terms with the scandalous death of Jesus and embrace him as risen, and so, they came to see him as the Christ who paradoxically reveals God's power in weakness. Only in time did she come to understand how different the world now was for those who had been baptized into Jesus' death, and even more time was required before she began to understand the cross in light of an unfinished and evolving universe. This last shift in understanding, though responding to new scientific knowledge of the world in which we live, is entirely consistent with Paul's and Mark's theologies of the cross. The Church offers us a dedicated period to come to understand and embrace all of this meaning; the time from Easter Sunday through Pentecost is, at least partly, geared to this.

Today is a day of celebration. It is a day we begin to allow hope to take greater hold of our hearts. Lent is over, the Triduum has reached a joyful climax, the season of Easter has begun and once again we sing alleluia at our liturgies. Jesus is revealed as Israel's Messiah and the sanest man who has ever lived. Though it will take time to fully understand and embrace all this means, through the Church's liturgies and the readings we have heard, we do sense that we now live in a world where both death and life have a different character and meaning than they did before Christ's passion and resurrection. On this day we call Easter, darkness has given way to light, and senselessness to meaning -- even though we may not really be able to explain to ourselves or others exactly why or how. On this day we proclaim that Christ is risen and begin our first steps into a life rooted in hope! Sinful death could not hold Jesus nor can it hold us as a result. Alleluia! Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Indeed he is risen!! Alleluia, alleluia!!

Jesus' Descent into Hell (Reprise)

 The following piece was written for my parish bulletin for Palm Sunday 2012. It is, therefore, necessarily brief but I hope it captures the heart of the credal article re Jesus' descent into Hell in light of the resurrection itself. It also represents an explanation of the significance of Jesus' experience of abandonment by God which itself is an experience of hell or godforsakenness. All of this is part of the larger story of God's will to bestow himself, to embrace us and the whole of creation, and to take it all into his own life where it is entirely transformed. This narrative grounds all existence and assures us of an absolute future; it is the story of God's unfailing and eternal faithfulness.

During Holy Week, we recall and celebrate the central events of our faith, revealing just how deep and incontrovertible is God's love for us. It is the climax of a story of "self-emptying" (or self-bestowal) on God's part begun in creation and completed in the events of the cross. In Christ, and especially through his openness and responsiveness (i.e., his obedience) to the One he calls Abba, God enters exhaustively into every aspect of our human existence and in no way spares himself the cost of such solidarity. Here God is revealed as an unremitting Love-in-Act which pursues us without pause or limit. Even our sinfulness cannot diminish or ultimately confound this love. Nothing, the gospel proclaims, will keep God from embracing and bringing us “home” to Himself. As the Scriptures remind us, our God loves us with a love that is “stronger than death." It is a love from which, “Neither death nor life, nor powers nor principalities, nor heights nor depths, nor anything at all” can ultimately separate us! (Romans 8:38-39)

It is only against this Scriptural background that we make sense of the article of the Apostles’ Creed known as Jesus’ “descent into hell”. Hell is, after all, not the creation of an offended God designed to punish us; it is a state of ultimate emptiness, inhumanity, loneliness, and lovelessness which is created, sustained, and exacerbated (made worse) by every choice we make to shut God out --- to live, and therefore to die, without Love itself. Hell is the fullest expression of the alienation which exists between human beings and God. As Benedict XVI writes, it is that “abyss of absolute loneliness” that “can no longer be penetrated by the word of another” and“into which love can no longer advance.” And yet, in Christ God himself will advance into this abyss and transform it with his presence. Through the sinful death of God’s Son, Love will become present even here.

To say that Christ died what the New Testament refers to as sinful, godless, “eternal”, or “second death” is to say that through his passion Jesus entered this abyss and bore the full weight of human isolation and abandonment. In this abject loneliness and hopelessness --- a hell deeper than anyone has ever known before or will ever know again --- Christ, though completely powerless to act on his own, remains open and responsive (obedient) to God. This openness provides God with a way into this state or place from which he is otherwise excluded. In Christ, even godforsakenness becomes good soil out of which the fullness of resurrection life springs. As a result, neither sin nor death will ever have the final word, or be a final silence! God will not and has not permitted it!

The credal article affirming Jesus’ descent into hell was born not from the church’s concern with the punishing wrath of God, but from her profound appreciation of the depth of God’s love for us and the lengths to which God would go to redeem us and to bring creation to fulfillment. What seems at first to be an unreservedly dark affirmation, meant mainly to terrify and chasten with foreboding, is instead the church's most paradoxical statement of the gospel of God’s prodigal love. It is a stark symbol of what it costs God to destroy that which separates us from Godself and to bring us to abundant (eternal) Life. It says that forgiveness is not about God changing his mind about us – much less having his anger appeased or his honor restored through his Son’s suffering and death. Instead, it is God’s steadfast refusal to let the alienation of sin stand eternally. In reconciling us to Godself, God asserts his Lordship precisely in refusing to allow enmity and alienation to remain as lasting realities in our lives or world.

Madman or Messiah? In the Darkness and Emptiness We Wait in Hope (Reprise)

In approaching this week, I admit that one thing I dislike associated with celebrating the Triduum in a parish setting is the inadequate way folks handle what should be periods of silence. This is notable after Holy Thursday Mass and especially after the stations and celebration of Jesus' passion on Good Friday when folks tend to greet one another in the parking lot with a cheery, "Happy Easter!" After all, in the first instance, our joy is bittersweet and marked by the anticipation of Jesus' betrayal and passion, while in the second instance we will have just marked the death of Jesus; yet, there is a significant period of grief and uncertainty that we call "Holy Saturday" still standing between Jesus' death and his resurrection. Even more, Holy Saturday says neither Jesus' work, nor God's own is yet complete. The Triduum is one long liturgical event that embraces different moods and salvific moments.

Silence is appropriate during these times; Easter is still distant. Allowing ourselves to live with something of the terrible disappointment and critical questions Jesus' disciples experienced as their entire world collapsed is a significant piece of coming to understand why we call today "Good" and tomorrow "Holy." It is important if we are to truly appreciate the meaning of this three-day liturgy we call Triduum; it is also a dimension of coming to genuine and deepening hope. I have often thought the Church could do better with its celebration of Holy Saturday, but spending some time waiting and reflecting on who we would be (not to mention who God would be!) had Jesus stayed good and dead is something Good Friday (essentially beginning after Holy Thursday Mass) and Holy Saturday (beginning the evening after the passion) call for.

In explaining the theology of the Cross, Paul once said, "Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more." During Holy Week, the Gospel readings focus us on the first part of Paul's statement. Sin has increased to an extraordinary extent and the one people touted as the Son of God has been executed as a blaspheming godforsaken criminal. We watched the darkness and the threat to his life grow and cast the whole of Jesus' life into question.

In the Gospel for  Wednesday we hear John's version of the story of Judas' betrayal of Jesus and the prediction of Peter's denials. For weeks before this, we had been hearing stories of a growing darkness and threat centered on the person of Jesus. Pharisees and Scribes were irritated and angry with Jesus at the facile way he broke Sabbath rules or his easy communion with and forgiveness of sinners. That he spoke with an authority the people recognized as new and surpassing theirs was also problematical. Family and disciples failed to understand him, thought him crazy, urged him to go to Jerusalem to work wonders and become famous.

Even his miracles were disquieting, not only because they increased the negative reaction of the religious leadership and the fear of the Romans as the darkness and threat continued to grow alongside them, but because Jesus himself seems to give us the sense that they are insufficient  and lead to misunderstandings and distortions of who he is or what he is really about. "Be silent!" we often hear him say. "Tell no one about this!" he instructs in the face of the increasing threat to his life. Futile instructions, of course, and, as those healed proclaim the wonders of God's grace in their lives, the darkness and threat to Jesus grows; The night comes ever nearer and we know that if evil is to be defeated, it must occur on a much more profound level than even thousands of such miracles.

In the last two weeks of Lent, the readings give us the sense that the last nine months of Jesus' life and active ministry were punctuated by retreat to a variety of safe houses as the priestly aristocracy actively looked for ways to kill him. He attended festivals in secret and the threat of stoning recurred again and again. Yet, inexplicably "He slipped away" we are told, or "They were unable to find an opening." The darkness is held at bay, barely. It is held in check by the love of the people surrounding Jesus. Barely. And in the last safe house on the eve of Passover as darkness closes in on every side Jesus celebrated a final Eucharist with his friends and disciples. He washed their feet, and reclined at table with them like free men did. And yet, profoundly troubled, Jesus spoke of his impending betrayal by Judas. None of the disciples, not even the beloved disciple understood what was happening. There is one last chance for Judas to change his mind as Jesus hands him a morsel of bread in friendship and love. God's covenant faithfulness is maintained.

But Satan enters Judas' heart and a friend of Jesus becomes his accuser --- the meaning of the term Satan here --- and the darkness enters this last safe house of light and friendship, faith and fellowship. It was night, John says. It was night. Judas' heart is the opening needed for the threatening darkness to engulf this place and Jesus as well. The prediction of Peter's denials tells us this "night" will get darker, colder, and more empty yet.  But in John's story, when everything is at its darkest and lowest, Jesus exclaims in a kind of victory cry: [[ Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him!]] Here as darkness envelopes everything, Jesus exults that authentic human being is revealed, made known and made real in space and time. Here, in the midst of the deepening "Night," God too is revealed and made fully known and real in space and time. It is either the cry of a messiah who will overcome evil right at its heart --- or it is the cry of a madman who cannot recognize or admit the victory of evil as it swallows him up. Amid these days of death and vigil, we do not really know which. At the end of these three days we call Triduum we will see the answer.

On the Friday we call "Good," the darkness intensified. During the night Jesus was arrested and "tried" by the Sanhedrin with the help of false witnesses, desertion by his disciples, and Judas' betrayal. Today he was brought before the Romans, tried, found innocent, flogged in an attempt at political appeasement and then handed over anyway by a fearful self-absorbed leader whose greater concern was for his own position to those who would kill him. There was betrayal, of consciences, of friendships, of discipleship and covenantal bonds on every side but God's. The night continued to deepen and the threat could not be greater.  Jesus was crucified and eventually cried out his experience of abandonment even by God. He descended into the ultimate godlessness, loneliness, and powerlessness we call hell. The darkness became almost total. It is difficult for us to see anything else. That is where Good Friday and Holy Saturday leave us.

And the question these events raises haunts the night and our own minds and hearts: namely, messiah or madman? Is Jesus simply another idealistic but mistaken person crushed by the cold, emptiness, and darkness of evil --- good and wondrous though his own works were? (cf Gospel for last Friday: John 10:31-42.) Is this darkness and emptiness the whole of the reality in which we live? Was Jesus' preaching of the reality of God's reign and his trust in God in vain? Is the God he proclaimed, the God in whom we also trust incapable of redeeming failure, sin and death --- even to the point of absolute lostness? Does he consign sinners to these without real hope because God's justice differs from his mercy? The questions associated with Jesus' death on the Cross multiply and we Christians wait in the darkness today and tomorrow. We fast and pray and try to hold onto hope that the one we called messiah, teacher, friend, beloved, brother, and Lord, was not simply deluded --- or worse --- and that we Christians are not, as Paul puts the matter, the greatest fools, the most pitiable of all.

We have seen sin increase to immeasurable degrees; though we do not see how it is possible we would like to think that Paul was right and that grace will abound all the more. But on the Friday we call "good" and on the Saturday we call "holy," we wait. Bereft, but hopeful, we wait.

The Silence of Solitude: A Share in the Abyss of God's Own Heart (Reprise)

As we move into Holy Week, a week I will spend mainly in solitude, I wanted to reprise the following post as part of my reflection on the self-gift God gives us so that he might dwell with us eternally and we, in turn, may dwell with and in him in the same way.

 [[Hi Sister, I wondered why you speak of solitude in personified terms. You say "she herself must open the door to the hermit". Do you think of solitude as a living thing?]]

Thanks for the question. I have repeated Thomas Merton's observation that one cannot choose solitude as one's own vocation; solitude must open the door to the hermit or there is no vocation. I can't say why Merton used this personification with real certainty, but I  know that it reminds me of references to Wisdom in the OT, where Wisdom or Sophia, is a dimension of God --- and a distinctly feminine one at that! I suspect that this same sense might have been true for Merton. In describing the Eremo which is the Motherhouse of the OSB Camaldolese in Tuscany, Merton writes: [[In order to seek Him who is inaccessible the hermit himself becomes inaccessible. But within the little village of cells  centered about the Church of the Eremo is a yet more perfect solitude: that of each hermit's own cell. Within the cell is the hermit (himself), in the solitude of his own soul. But --- and this is the ultimate test of solitude --- the hermit is not alone with himself: for that would not be sacred loneliness. Holiness is life. Holy Solitude is nourished with the Bread of Life and drinks deep at the very Fountain of all Life. The solitude of the soul enclosed within itself is death. And so, the authentic, the really sacred solitude is the infinite solitude of God Himself, Alone, in Whom the hermits are alone,]] (Disputed Questions, A Renaissance Hermit, p. 169)

What Merton is getting at, I think, is that eremitical solitude is not only lived in communion with God, but it is communion with God lived in one's cell and within the very life of God. It is, of itself, a dimension of the God who exists both as a community of love and as an abyss of solitude. It is the life of God which is opened to us when solitude opens her door to us. Cornelius Wencel, Er Cam, says something very similar in speaking of two freedoms meeting one another in The Eremitic Life. He writes: [[In this sense the eremitic calling is a consequence of meeting the original depths of the Trinity's solitude. God is the living interpersonal relationship of love inasmuch as he is the presence of the original abyss of solitude and silence. The reality of God is thus the original source of any solitude, an impenetrable abyss that calls to the profound depths of solitude of the human heart. Having heard that existential call of God's solitude, people respond to it by opening up the whole secret of their hearts.]]

So, yes,  I personify Solitude because I understand it as a dimension, even the most fundamental dimension of God's own heart. To speak of Solitude opening the door to us is to speak of God opening a particular dimension of God's own heart to us and inviting us to dwell there in silence and solitude and coming to the human wholeness, holiness, and rest hermits call "the silence of solitude" and hesychasts call "quies". It is critically important that we understand how qualitatively different from  ("mere") silence and solitude is the reality we call "the silence of solitude" or "eremitical solitude". The first is simply the (still important!) absence of sound and others; the latter is life lived in the solitary abyss of God's heart and so, a living and communal reality. This is also the reason I identify the Silence of Solitude not only as environment, but also as goal, and charism of the eremitical life.

Looking Forward to the Feast of Saint Joseph: Icon of Man in Search of Justice Mediated by the Will of God (Reprise)

For Tuesday's Feast of St Joseph, I wanted to repost something I put up a couple of years ago because it reflected an important step in my own appreciation of St Joseph.

[[Friday's readings (December 2015) focused on the coming of the One in whom justice will be done and creation set to rights. Jeremiah speaks of this in terms of the Davidic line of Kings --- a line that often profaned and betrayed God's sacred promise and hope. The psalmist sings wonderfully of the promise of the Lord bringing all things to right in the love of God.

But especially poignant is the Matthean story of Joseph as the icon of one who struggles to allow God's own justice to be brought to birth as fully as possible. It is, in its own way, a companion story to Luke's account of Mary's annunciation and fiat. Both Mary (we are told explicitly) and Joseph (we are told implicitly) ponder things in their hearts, both are mystified and shaken by the great mystery which has taken hold of them and in whose story they have become pivotal characters. Both allow God's own power and presence to overshadow them so that God might do something absolutely new in their world. But it is Joseph's more extended and profound struggle to truly do justice in mercy and to be a righteous man who reveals God's own justice in love, God's salvation, that was at the heart of yesterday's . . . story.

The Situation:

I am a little ashamed to say I have never spent much time considering Joseph's predicament or the context of that predicament until this week. Instead I have always thought of him as a good man who chose the merciful legal solution rather than opting for the stricter one. I never saw him making any other choice nor did I understand the various ways he was pushed and pulled by his own faith and love. But Joseph's situation was far more demanding and frustrating than I had ever appreciated! Consider the background which weighed heavy on Joseph's heart. First, he is identified as a just or righteous man, a man faithful to God, to the Covenant, a keeper of the Law or Torah, an observant Jew who was well aware of Jeremiah's promise and the sometimes bitter history of his own Davidic line. All of this and more is implied here by the term "righteous man". In any case, this represents his most foundational and essential identity. Secondly, he was betrothed to Mary, wed (not just engaged!) to her though he had not yet taken her to his family home and would not for about a year. That marriage was a symbol of the covenant between God and his People Israel. Together he and Mary symbolized the Covenant; to betray or dishonor this relationship was to betray and profane the Covenant itself. This too was uppermost in Joseph's mind precisely because he was a righteous man.

Thirdly, he loved Mary and was entirely mystified by her pregnancy. Nothing in his tradition prepared him for a virgin birth. Mary could only have gotten pregnant through intercourse with another man so far as Joseph could have known --- and this despite Mary's protestations of innocence. (The OT passage referring to a virgin is more originally translated as "young woman". Only later as "almah" was translated into the Greek "parthenos" and even later was seen by Christians in light of Mary and Jesus' nativity did "young woman" firmly become "a virgin".) The history of Israel was fraught with all-too-human failures which betrayed the covenant and profaned Israel's high calling. While Joseph was open to God doing something new in history it is more than a little likely that he was torn between which of these possibilities was actually occurring here, just as he was torn between believing Mary and continuing the marriage and divorcing her and casting her and the child aside.

What Were Joseph's Options?

Under the Law Joseph had two options. The first involved a very public divorce. Joseph would bring the situation to the attention of the authorities, involve witnesses, repudiate the marriage and patrimony for the child, and cast Mary aside. This would establish Joseph as a wronged man and allow him to continue to be seen as righteous or just. But Mary could have been stoned and the baby would also have died as a result. The second option was more private but also meant bringing his case to the authorities. In this solution, Joseph would again have repudiated the marriage and patrimony but the whole matter would not have become public and Mary's life or that of the child would not have been put in immediate jeopardy. Still, in either instance, Mary's shame and apparent transgressions would have become known and in either case, the result would have been ostracization and eventual death. Under the law Joseph would have been called a righteous man but how would he have felt about himself in his heart of hearts? Would he have wondered if he was just under the Law but at the same time had refused to hear the message of an angel of God, refused to allow God to do something new and even greater than the Law?

Of course, Joseph might have simply done nothing at all and continued with the plans for the marriage's future. But in such a case many problems would have arisen. According to the Law, he would have been falsely claiming paternity of the child --- a transgression of the Law and thus, the covenant. Had the real father shown up in the future and claimed paternity Joseph would then have been guilty of "conniving with Mary's own sin" (as Harold Buetow describes the matter). Again Law and covenant would have been transgressed and profaned. In his heart of hearts, he might have believed this was the just thing to do but in terms of his People and their Covenant and Law, he would have acted unjustly and offended the all-just God. Had he brought Mary to his family home he would have rendered them and their abode unclean as well. If Mary was guilty of adultery she would have been unclean --- hence the need for ostracizing her or even killing her!

Entering the Liminal Place Where God May Speak to Us:

All of this and so much more was roiling around in Joseph's heart and mind! In one of the most difficult situations we might imagine, Joseph struggled to discern what was just and what it would mean for him to do justice in our world! Every option was torturous; each was inadequate for a genuinely righteous man. Eventually he came to a conclusion which may have seemed the least problematical even if it was not wholly satisfactory, namely to put Mary away "quietly", to divorce her in a more private way and walk away from her. And at this moment, when Joseph's struggle to discern and do justice has reached it's most neuralgic point, at a place of terrible liminality symbolized in so much Scriptural literature by dreaming, God reveals to Joseph the same truth Mary has herself accepted: God is doing something unimaginably new here. He is giving the greatest gift yet. The Holy Spirit has overshadowed Mary and resulted in the conception of One who will be the very embodiment of God's justice in our world. Not only has a young woman come to be pregnant but a virgin will bear a child! The Law will be fulfilled in Him and true justice will have a human face as God comes to be Emmanuel in this new and definitive way.

Joseph's faith response to God's revelation has several parts or dimensions. He decides to consummate the marriage with Mary by bringing her to his family home but not as an act of doing nothing at all and certainly not as some kind of sentimental or cowardly evasion of real justice. Instead, it is a way of embracing the whole truth and truly doing justice. He affirms the marriage and adopts the child as his own. He establishes him in the line of David even as he proclaims the child's true paternity. He does this by announcing this new Son's name to be Jesus, God saves.  Thus Joseph proclaims to the world that God has acted in this Son's birth in a new way that transcends and relativizes the Law even as it completely respects it. He honors the Covenant with a faithfulness that leads to that covenant's perfection in the Christ Event. In all of this, Joseph continues to show himself to be a just or righteous man, a man whose humanity and honor we ourselves should regard profoundly.

Justice is the way to Genuine Future:

Besides being moved by Joseph's genuine righteousness, I am struck by a couple of things in light of all of this. First, discerning and doing justice is not easy. There are all kinds of solutions in the Scriptures that are partial and somewhat satisfactory, but real justice takes work and, in the end, must be inspired by the love and wisdom of God. Secondly, Law per se can never really mediate justice. Instead, the doing of justice takes a human being who honors the Law, feels compassion, knows mercy, struggles in fear and trepidation with discerning what is right, and ultimately is open to allowing God to do something new and creative in the situation. Justice is never a system of laws, though it will include these. It is always a personal act of courage and even of worship, the act of one who struggles to mediate God's own plan and will for all those and that involved. Finally, I am struck by the fact that justice opens reality to a true future. Injustice closes off the future. In all of the partial and unsatisfactory solutions Joseph entertained and wrestled with, each brought some justice and some injustice. Future of some sort was assured for some and foreclosed to others; often both came together in what was merely a sad and tragic approximation of a "real future". Only God's own will and plan assures a genuine future for the whole of his creation. That too is something yesterday's Gospel witnessed to.

Another Look at Joseph:

Joseph is the star in Matt's account, the one who points to God and the justice only God can do. It is important, I think, to see all that he represents as Mary's counterpart in the nativity of Jesus (Son of David) who is Emmanuel (Son of the One who, especially in Jesus, is God With Us). Mary's fiat seems easy, and graceful in more than one sense of that term. Joseph's fiat is hard-won but also graced or graceful. For Joseph, as for Mary, there is real labor involved as the categories of divinity and justice, law, and covenant are burst asunder to bring the life and future of heaven to birth in our world. May we each be committed to mediating God's own justice and bringing God's future into being especially in this Lenten-Easter season. This is the time when we especially look ahead to Christ's coming and too, to his eventual coming to full stature when God will be all in all. May we never take refuge in partial and inadequate solutions to our world's problems and need for justice, especially out of shortsightedness, sentimentality, cowardice, evasion, or fear for our own reputations. And may we allow Joseph to be the model of discernment, humility, and courage in mediating the powerful presence and future of God we recognize as justice and so yearn for in this 21st Century.]]

Postscript 2024: in a conversation with a friend on a liturgy her house had had last year on the Feast of St Joseph, she described a question that had been asked all the Sisters; each then shared her own answer if she chose to. The question was what characteristic do you need to ask Joseph for assistance with this year. My own answer for the present was patience in trusting God when the way we're moving is unclear or we don't understand what God is doing with or asking from us. My friend's answer a year ago was Help in Trusting God in times of uncertainty. I think she will repeat the same prayer this year. Readers might try something similar.