In reading Dom Leclercq's writing, in which he shares much of Bl. Paul Giustiniani's work of the 1500's and hermit life, we come to understand why it is that a hermit cannot be considered a hermit, in the religious sense, if not consecrated, of not canonically approved by the Church.
The previous post cites many excerpts from this writing which sets out the reasons. I add one, also: supernatural graces that come from being a consecrated religious.
Right now, it is the supernatural graces which I need most. The fourth "s", suffering, takes energy, and the attitude struggles to dominate the body, rather than the soul being suffocated by the affects of physical pain.
My confessor said he could not tell I was in such pain. This is part of the goodness of this suffering, that it is not noticed, to the point that it could be disbelieved.
Last night I dreamed that my old Irish spiritual da had given me a B+ in a course on the spiritual life, of hermit life! I asked him why I had not gotten an A- or an A. He told me that I was not focused enough, that I had not read extra on saints, that I had not put my whole self into it. He was very calm in telling me and not accusatory; it was just simple fact. I was disappointed some, but as he was telling me, I was diddling with some project or other, distracted and fragmented. I knew what he said was true. Yet I wondered if I had the discipline to do as required.
This is the true state of the soul these days, for I awoke with a lethargy from the pain, and knowing I had many manual chores and projects that could be done, I had not the energy from within to do much except drink coffee and make some sugary oatmeal no-bake cookies which might help boost the body's energy--like a jump-start!
Yet, I must consider helplessness, and in this, it is the prayer and Psalms and interior which will jump-start the mind which will support the soul in what true work is to be done. This work might include simple waiting--or going for a gentle walk, or not accomplishing much of anything.
That is why I doubt I can exist in a set horarium day by day but rather must live in the Order of the Present Moment.
I am most concerned, at this time, as to how to approach asking the Bishop and the Vicar General, either or both, to consecrate me as a religious eremitic, poor and B+ quality that I am. But somehow, deep down, I sense that this is necessary, or I will never be a complete hermit. No one would be or is.
A secular hermit is something I am not called to be. These great spiritual authorities say that without the Church's stamp, the hermit life is fraught with dangers. Yes, too, it would be false and self-imposed: invalid.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
Excerpts from Bl. Paul Giustiniani and Dom Leclercq: on hermit life
From Bl. Paul Giustiniani on the hermit life as quoted in Dom Leclercq’s Alone with God (excerpts from ch. II, “The Hermit’s Role in the Church”; quotes by Giustiniani, italics by Leclercq):
“Some receive contemplation alone, that is the soul’s respose in God; others receive action only, which consists of tiling for God in external affairs; some are granted now one, then the other: contemplation for a time and action for a time, but never both together.”
Another fact, therefore, becomes self-evident: within the unity of Christian life there are many states of life differing in form and activity, but all animated by the same spirit, that divine life bestowed and communicated by Jesus Christ through His Church. On one common foundation of Christian duty is erected the threefold structure of Christiana vita, relgiosa vita, and eremitica vita. Each transcends the other: the second and third are added to the first and must never depart from it….The holiness which belongs to every state of life is possible because they all share in the same life of Christ within the one holy Church. Without the fait and the practice of Christian duties, without submission to the Church, no way of life, however sublime it may appear, can possibly lead to salvation.
“It is not the same to speak of men and of their state of life. When we say religious life is more perfect than secular life, we compare one state of life to another state of life. But we do not mean that every religious is more perfect than all seculars. For we are sure that in a less perfect state of life there are men more perfect than those who live in a more perfect state. We believe that many married persons are more perfect than some who are widowed, and yet the state of widowhood is superior to that of marriage.”
What, then, is the place of hermit life among the various Christian vocations? It is one form of the religious state and therefore differs basically from secular life. Its essential excellence stems not from solitude for its own sake, but from the fact that it is a religious life. A man may be a solitary without being a religious, and consequently without following a higher state of life. In Giustiniani’s time there were two kinds of Christians leading a secular life in the world: men immersed in tasks of an active life, living with their families and moving in society; then again other men who were living as hermits without really being such. As their way of life was not backed by the authority of the Church it was fraught with danger….
“We must consider religious life on the one hand, and secular life on the other hand; then contemplative life, and finally active life….If we compare first religious life to secular life we can easily find that the holy Fathers and the Church itself have defined that religious life is more perfect and safer. To differ from their opinion would be not only imprudent, but impious….If now we wish to compare active and contemplative life, we may be sure that, in spite of all the controversy on this subject, the final word is still Our Lord’s promise: ‘Mary has chosen the better part and it shall not be taken away from her.’ As to activity, there is no doubt that works of spiritual mercy, as they are commonly called, should be preferred to all works of corporal mercy. Thus in the secular state, among the various ways of life it is more perfect to be occupied in spiritual affairs than in corporal affairs. Nevertheless this state of life is still very imperfect, principally because the secular state in itself is a great obstacle to the works of spiritual mercy. Similarly in the religious state: those who practice the works of corporal mercy are in a state of perfection, but their works are imperfect, especially because such works hinder the perfection of their state. Whence I conclude that pure contemplative life would be most perfect, if our fragile nature were capable of it. But since the human mind, particularly those who have lived too long in a worldly way, cannot remain always in a state of contemplation, the perfect life is found among those who, in the religious state, practice contemplation as much as possible and who, during the intervals when they descend from their lofty heights, perform works of spiritual mercy.”
Such is the hermit’s way of life. Because it is a form of religious life, it is quite distinct from all secular life, whether the latter be solitary or not. Its essential value derives, not from its particular form, but from the fact that it is a state of life approved by the Church. Like all forms of religious life, it requires three inseparable elements: the vows, a rule approved by the Church, and government by superiors whose authority is sanctioned by the rule and whom all must obey. Giustiniani often had to insist upon these three elements, as he reacted against the defects of what he called “secular hermits.” At almost all times there have been Christians who have renounced worldly activity, though they do not wish and often are not able to lead a life determined by a rule. Some of them have attained sanctity in this path: in the first day s of Oriental monasticism, for instance, various ascetics achieved great virtue in spite of and sometimes by means of very eccentric behavior….But these instances were always considered exceptions. Monastic reformers and lawgivers warned against the dangers of any solitary life that lacked the safeguard of a rule and a lawful superior. There were solitaries of this kind in Giustiniani’s day and he often exhorted them to enter religious life. In his first Rule he declared his intention of making a place for them in the Church.
“Eremitic life was of old considered the highest glory of Christian life and of the religious state; but in our day it has declined even more than other forms of religious life and has almost disappeared. In fact only the twenty or more Camaldolese hermits who follow the Rule of St. Benedict and their own legal constitutions are truly leading a religious life as hermits. All others who live in solitude or who in any way enjoy the title of ‘hermits’ are in face neither hermits nor religious, because they lack the first requisites of religious life: they pronounce no vows of religion, profess no approved rule, do not obey a superior. Their deplorable conduct must be censured, for they do not serve God, but just their own desires, contravening the sacred canons.”
The vows of religion are important in more than one respect: they admit a Christian to a state of life approved by the Church; they stamp his whole existence with the seal of obedience, the only escape from illusion; they constitute a noble act of the virtue of religion, a consecration that enhances the value and increase the merit of whatever acts of virtue a Christian voluntarily performs.
“Even if one who has not taken the vows observes poverty, chastity, and obedience perfectly, even if he seems to proceed along an arduous path, nevertheless he cannot acquire the richer merit of religious life. The Church teaches through her saints that all good works become better and more meritorious when offered to God by a vow, particularly a solemn public vow. To make a vow is an act of adoration, of the worship due to God alone, the worship most pleasing to Him, because it raises all subsequent actions to a sublime level of perfection.” Whoever makes a vow offers God not only his actions but himself. He consecrates to the Lord once and for all not only the proper use of liberty, but that whole liberty itself. He enters an entirely new relationship with the Lord, so that the vows truly resemble a second baptism.
But religious life has two principal forms: active and contemplative. We must first define them clearly in order that we may grasp the distinction and the connection between them.
“By ‘contemplative life’ I do not mean the future life, the one true life of perfect contemplation in which we shall see God and enjoy perpetual bliss. Nor do I mean the spiritual ecstasy that is occasionally granted during this earthly life to certain souls of great perfection, a sort of vision of divine truths, bestowed as a special grace in a way that transcends the usual limitations of human nature. I refer instead to the manner of life of those who have renounced all temporal and spiritual activity in order to heed only God and themselves—sibi soli et Deo vacat. They strive, as constantly as human frailty permits, to reach God by reading holy books, by meditating on the eternal truths, and by persisting in prayer. By ‘active life’ I do not refer to the state of those who spend their time on the vanities of the world or on secular business, but I mean a way of life which makes room for the duties of taking care of other souls as well as various other activities that pious men may undertake for the honor and the service of religion.”
In comparing these two forms of religious life, the active and the contemplative, we must judge each by the value of its distinctive traits. “We can easily collect texts by various doctors of the Church proving that total contemplative life (total, that is, in so far as human frailty permits) is more perfect, since its one aim is to love and to know God which is the most perfect life and at the same time most useful to other men, even though its usefulness is not apparent….According to the doctrine of St. Thomas who, in a way, prefers active to contemplative religious life [although Pere Garrigou-Lagrange states a clear case that St. Thomas is very much the contemplative mystic], there are two kinds of actions in religious life, the first antecedent to contemplation, the second springing from the experience of contemplation. Now even those who somewhat prefer action to contemplation agree that the action which precedes contemplation is less perfect than contemplation itself. The action proceeding from contemplation is likewise less perfect than contemplation itself. I personally have always held the opinion that both forms of action are less perfect than contemplation. Regarding action which leads to contemplation there is no doubt. A man whose action proceeds from contemplation generally does not undertake action as if he were climbing to a higher level, but rather he goes to a lower level in order to offer services necessary to his neighbor and unobtainable from others. To turn from God’s love and the loving of God (which is contemplation) to the process of loving one’s neighbor is not an upward but a downward movement. We do not love God for the sake of our neighbor, but our neighbor for the sake of God….If our neighbor needs help in order to save his soul, and if there be none other to care for him, we may, without risking our own salvation, consent to lose something of our perfection, or some portion of superfluous consolation in order that we may attend to his urgent needs. Similarly the Fathers of the Church teach that Christians, and priest in particular, have no right to take flight and hide in times of persecution if this deprives the Christian people of necessary means of salvation. They should rather stay and face the risks. So I believe that when others are available, contemplatives may be excused from good works for the benefit of their neighbors. But if there is a lack of persons to offer the services necessary to their neighbor’s salvation, then the contemplatives should interrupt and relinquish their lives of contemplation to accept a life that is less perfect but more necessary. They do not then advance upward, but stoop downward. They should not do this through mere love of neighbor, for they should never remove their attention from love of God in order to attend lovingly to their neighbors. I say that their motive should not be natural love of neighbor, but primarily love of God and service of God through service of neighbor….At the present time those who practice works of spiritual mercy on behalf of their neighbors, far from being wanting are most plentiful.”
An entirely contemplative life is, then, legitimate. Objectively it represents the highest level of perfection. In Giustiniani’s time this coincided with eremitic life, being found only in hermitages. He maintained that these were intended by Providence to encourage and preserve that perfect life in the Church.
Old Testament foundation for the eremitic/monastic life:
“But if we seek the origin of these two modes of life in more remote antiquity, we find that in the Old Testament, Elias practiced the solitary way of life, while his disciple, Eliseus, in company with many followers, organized community life. Whoever ponders on these incidents will understand that these two modes of monastic sanctity were not invented by men but were given to the human race by God, who governs all things wisely, who loves human beings supremely, and who even in Old Testament days providentially sent Elias and Eliseus to show these two modes of religious life to the men whom He wished to save. These are the two paths by which men may easily arrive at eternal bliss. Later when the Gospel has been proclaimed, the same two paths were more clearly and openly marked out in the East by St. Paul and St. Antony, in the West by St. Benedict and St. Romuald. With their help men could journey on theses two royal roads and thus safely reach the unutterable delights of the heavenly Jerusalem, the place prepared for those who fear and love God. And if we examine the origin and progress of these two modes of life, we can easily perceive that they are like two sisters showing a close resemblance, though wearing different clothing. Moreover, if we consider carefully not only their origin, but also their respective characteristics, it becomes evident that they are linked by such a close relationship and intimate bond that the fullness of cenobitic life is impossible without some participation in the hermit life, and the latter cannot be perfect without some form of support from the cenobites….Both the hermit and the cenobite are known as solitaries because, in so far as human weakness permits, they withdraw from the exterior and the interior multitude, that is, they remove themselves externally from the throngs of other men whose lives differ from theirs. At the same time, by interior discipline and unceasing practice of virtue, they strive to expel from their soul the many passions and impulses disturbing it, in order that divine love alone might dwell in their hearts. Therefore, one who wishes to live without companions cannot be more truly called a monk on that account than one who, even though he shares the company of others as a way of more perfectly devoting himself to God alone, yet truly escapes both physically and spiritually from the common throngs. It matters not if he practices his way of life with many brothers in a monastery or if he dwells alone in a hermitage….
“On the other hand when hermits read the Rule governing cenobites, they should blush for shame and amend their ways if they perceive that they, who are bound to the higher and nobler duties of the eremitic life, do not attain even the full perfection proper to the lower and easier precepts of cenobitic life. Thus they can see more clearly what utter purity of life and integral perfection of all virtue is expected of them, if already the discipline of cenobitic life is a perfection. To fall short of that ideal would be shameful on the part of those whose profession (if they are true hermits) binds them to a still stricter and more excellent discipline….
“But especially in our day is it important that the Rule and the practices of eremitic life be made known, in particular to those who seek to serve God….For in other times all who decided to lead monastic life sought out solitary places. The Councils and the holy canons forbade monks to live in cities or even to enter them….”
“Some receive contemplation alone, that is the soul’s respose in God; others receive action only, which consists of tiling for God in external affairs; some are granted now one, then the other: contemplation for a time and action for a time, but never both together.”
Another fact, therefore, becomes self-evident: within the unity of Christian life there are many states of life differing in form and activity, but all animated by the same spirit, that divine life bestowed and communicated by Jesus Christ through His Church. On one common foundation of Christian duty is erected the threefold structure of Christiana vita, relgiosa vita, and eremitica vita. Each transcends the other: the second and third are added to the first and must never depart from it….The holiness which belongs to every state of life is possible because they all share in the same life of Christ within the one holy Church. Without the fait and the practice of Christian duties, without submission to the Church, no way of life, however sublime it may appear, can possibly lead to salvation.
“It is not the same to speak of men and of their state of life. When we say religious life is more perfect than secular life, we compare one state of life to another state of life. But we do not mean that every religious is more perfect than all seculars. For we are sure that in a less perfect state of life there are men more perfect than those who live in a more perfect state. We believe that many married persons are more perfect than some who are widowed, and yet the state of widowhood is superior to that of marriage.”
What, then, is the place of hermit life among the various Christian vocations? It is one form of the religious state and therefore differs basically from secular life. Its essential excellence stems not from solitude for its own sake, but from the fact that it is a religious life. A man may be a solitary without being a religious, and consequently without following a higher state of life. In Giustiniani’s time there were two kinds of Christians leading a secular life in the world: men immersed in tasks of an active life, living with their families and moving in society; then again other men who were living as hermits without really being such. As their way of life was not backed by the authority of the Church it was fraught with danger….
“We must consider religious life on the one hand, and secular life on the other hand; then contemplative life, and finally active life….If we compare first religious life to secular life we can easily find that the holy Fathers and the Church itself have defined that religious life is more perfect and safer. To differ from their opinion would be not only imprudent, but impious….If now we wish to compare active and contemplative life, we may be sure that, in spite of all the controversy on this subject, the final word is still Our Lord’s promise: ‘Mary has chosen the better part and it shall not be taken away from her.’ As to activity, there is no doubt that works of spiritual mercy, as they are commonly called, should be preferred to all works of corporal mercy. Thus in the secular state, among the various ways of life it is more perfect to be occupied in spiritual affairs than in corporal affairs. Nevertheless this state of life is still very imperfect, principally because the secular state in itself is a great obstacle to the works of spiritual mercy. Similarly in the religious state: those who practice the works of corporal mercy are in a state of perfection, but their works are imperfect, especially because such works hinder the perfection of their state. Whence I conclude that pure contemplative life would be most perfect, if our fragile nature were capable of it. But since the human mind, particularly those who have lived too long in a worldly way, cannot remain always in a state of contemplation, the perfect life is found among those who, in the religious state, practice contemplation as much as possible and who, during the intervals when they descend from their lofty heights, perform works of spiritual mercy.”
Such is the hermit’s way of life. Because it is a form of religious life, it is quite distinct from all secular life, whether the latter be solitary or not. Its essential value derives, not from its particular form, but from the fact that it is a state of life approved by the Church. Like all forms of religious life, it requires three inseparable elements: the vows, a rule approved by the Church, and government by superiors whose authority is sanctioned by the rule and whom all must obey. Giustiniani often had to insist upon these three elements, as he reacted against the defects of what he called “secular hermits.” At almost all times there have been Christians who have renounced worldly activity, though they do not wish and often are not able to lead a life determined by a rule. Some of them have attained sanctity in this path: in the first day s of Oriental monasticism, for instance, various ascetics achieved great virtue in spite of and sometimes by means of very eccentric behavior….But these instances were always considered exceptions. Monastic reformers and lawgivers warned against the dangers of any solitary life that lacked the safeguard of a rule and a lawful superior. There were solitaries of this kind in Giustiniani’s day and he often exhorted them to enter religious life. In his first Rule he declared his intention of making a place for them in the Church.
“Eremitic life was of old considered the highest glory of Christian life and of the religious state; but in our day it has declined even more than other forms of religious life and has almost disappeared. In fact only the twenty or more Camaldolese hermits who follow the Rule of St. Benedict and their own legal constitutions are truly leading a religious life as hermits. All others who live in solitude or who in any way enjoy the title of ‘hermits’ are in face neither hermits nor religious, because they lack the first requisites of religious life: they pronounce no vows of religion, profess no approved rule, do not obey a superior. Their deplorable conduct must be censured, for they do not serve God, but just their own desires, contravening the sacred canons.”
The vows of religion are important in more than one respect: they admit a Christian to a state of life approved by the Church; they stamp his whole existence with the seal of obedience, the only escape from illusion; they constitute a noble act of the virtue of religion, a consecration that enhances the value and increase the merit of whatever acts of virtue a Christian voluntarily performs.
“Even if one who has not taken the vows observes poverty, chastity, and obedience perfectly, even if he seems to proceed along an arduous path, nevertheless he cannot acquire the richer merit of religious life. The Church teaches through her saints that all good works become better and more meritorious when offered to God by a vow, particularly a solemn public vow. To make a vow is an act of adoration, of the worship due to God alone, the worship most pleasing to Him, because it raises all subsequent actions to a sublime level of perfection.” Whoever makes a vow offers God not only his actions but himself. He consecrates to the Lord once and for all not only the proper use of liberty, but that whole liberty itself. He enters an entirely new relationship with the Lord, so that the vows truly resemble a second baptism.
But religious life has two principal forms: active and contemplative. We must first define them clearly in order that we may grasp the distinction and the connection between them.
“By ‘contemplative life’ I do not mean the future life, the one true life of perfect contemplation in which we shall see God and enjoy perpetual bliss. Nor do I mean the spiritual ecstasy that is occasionally granted during this earthly life to certain souls of great perfection, a sort of vision of divine truths, bestowed as a special grace in a way that transcends the usual limitations of human nature. I refer instead to the manner of life of those who have renounced all temporal and spiritual activity in order to heed only God and themselves—sibi soli et Deo vacat. They strive, as constantly as human frailty permits, to reach God by reading holy books, by meditating on the eternal truths, and by persisting in prayer. By ‘active life’ I do not refer to the state of those who spend their time on the vanities of the world or on secular business, but I mean a way of life which makes room for the duties of taking care of other souls as well as various other activities that pious men may undertake for the honor and the service of religion.”
In comparing these two forms of religious life, the active and the contemplative, we must judge each by the value of its distinctive traits. “We can easily collect texts by various doctors of the Church proving that total contemplative life (total, that is, in so far as human frailty permits) is more perfect, since its one aim is to love and to know God which is the most perfect life and at the same time most useful to other men, even though its usefulness is not apparent….According to the doctrine of St. Thomas who, in a way, prefers active to contemplative religious life [although Pere Garrigou-Lagrange states a clear case that St. Thomas is very much the contemplative mystic], there are two kinds of actions in religious life, the first antecedent to contemplation, the second springing from the experience of contemplation. Now even those who somewhat prefer action to contemplation agree that the action which precedes contemplation is less perfect than contemplation itself. The action proceeding from contemplation is likewise less perfect than contemplation itself. I personally have always held the opinion that both forms of action are less perfect than contemplation. Regarding action which leads to contemplation there is no doubt. A man whose action proceeds from contemplation generally does not undertake action as if he were climbing to a higher level, but rather he goes to a lower level in order to offer services necessary to his neighbor and unobtainable from others. To turn from God’s love and the loving of God (which is contemplation) to the process of loving one’s neighbor is not an upward but a downward movement. We do not love God for the sake of our neighbor, but our neighbor for the sake of God….If our neighbor needs help in order to save his soul, and if there be none other to care for him, we may, without risking our own salvation, consent to lose something of our perfection, or some portion of superfluous consolation in order that we may attend to his urgent needs. Similarly the Fathers of the Church teach that Christians, and priest in particular, have no right to take flight and hide in times of persecution if this deprives the Christian people of necessary means of salvation. They should rather stay and face the risks. So I believe that when others are available, contemplatives may be excused from good works for the benefit of their neighbors. But if there is a lack of persons to offer the services necessary to their neighbor’s salvation, then the contemplatives should interrupt and relinquish their lives of contemplation to accept a life that is less perfect but more necessary. They do not then advance upward, but stoop downward. They should not do this through mere love of neighbor, for they should never remove their attention from love of God in order to attend lovingly to their neighbors. I say that their motive should not be natural love of neighbor, but primarily love of God and service of God through service of neighbor….At the present time those who practice works of spiritual mercy on behalf of their neighbors, far from being wanting are most plentiful.”
An entirely contemplative life is, then, legitimate. Objectively it represents the highest level of perfection. In Giustiniani’s time this coincided with eremitic life, being found only in hermitages. He maintained that these were intended by Providence to encourage and preserve that perfect life in the Church.
Old Testament foundation for the eremitic/monastic life:
“But if we seek the origin of these two modes of life in more remote antiquity, we find that in the Old Testament, Elias practiced the solitary way of life, while his disciple, Eliseus, in company with many followers, organized community life. Whoever ponders on these incidents will understand that these two modes of monastic sanctity were not invented by men but were given to the human race by God, who governs all things wisely, who loves human beings supremely, and who even in Old Testament days providentially sent Elias and Eliseus to show these two modes of religious life to the men whom He wished to save. These are the two paths by which men may easily arrive at eternal bliss. Later when the Gospel has been proclaimed, the same two paths were more clearly and openly marked out in the East by St. Paul and St. Antony, in the West by St. Benedict and St. Romuald. With their help men could journey on theses two royal roads and thus safely reach the unutterable delights of the heavenly Jerusalem, the place prepared for those who fear and love God. And if we examine the origin and progress of these two modes of life, we can easily perceive that they are like two sisters showing a close resemblance, though wearing different clothing. Moreover, if we consider carefully not only their origin, but also their respective characteristics, it becomes evident that they are linked by such a close relationship and intimate bond that the fullness of cenobitic life is impossible without some participation in the hermit life, and the latter cannot be perfect without some form of support from the cenobites….Both the hermit and the cenobite are known as solitaries because, in so far as human weakness permits, they withdraw from the exterior and the interior multitude, that is, they remove themselves externally from the throngs of other men whose lives differ from theirs. At the same time, by interior discipline and unceasing practice of virtue, they strive to expel from their soul the many passions and impulses disturbing it, in order that divine love alone might dwell in their hearts. Therefore, one who wishes to live without companions cannot be more truly called a monk on that account than one who, even though he shares the company of others as a way of more perfectly devoting himself to God alone, yet truly escapes both physically and spiritually from the common throngs. It matters not if he practices his way of life with many brothers in a monastery or if he dwells alone in a hermitage….
“On the other hand when hermits read the Rule governing cenobites, they should blush for shame and amend their ways if they perceive that they, who are bound to the higher and nobler duties of the eremitic life, do not attain even the full perfection proper to the lower and easier precepts of cenobitic life. Thus they can see more clearly what utter purity of life and integral perfection of all virtue is expected of them, if already the discipline of cenobitic life is a perfection. To fall short of that ideal would be shameful on the part of those whose profession (if they are true hermits) binds them to a still stricter and more excellent discipline….
“But especially in our day is it important that the Rule and the practices of eremitic life be made known, in particular to those who seek to serve God….For in other times all who decided to lead monastic life sought out solitary places. The Councils and the holy canons forbade monks to live in cities or even to enter them….”
Saturday, April 14, 2007
The Nine S' of the Hermit Life
Snow is blowing across Lake Immaculata in the coldest recorded weather for April in this midwestern state. Best get the Rose of Sharon into the garage, in a bucket of water. Was a gift by hermitage guests this morning.
The Three S' became the Seven S' and now are the Nine S'. For the complete hermit life (or the complete, intergral Catholic life), one must practice silence, solitude, slowness, suffering, selflessness, simplicity, stability, stillness and serenity. The hermit must practice these to a high degree.
One might wonder, "Why not self-mastery as one of the s'?" Self-mastery, necessary for the virtue of meekness, in self-control over the passions, is inherent in some of the listed s'. But this list goes further than self-mastery, as selflessness and suffering lead into charity. Serenity may be a fruit of this life; but we are pondering this state, to comprehend serenity and if it is something to practice and acquire or is a grace.
Andrew the Heron is serene.
The snow is serene.
What is serenity? It is a calm, a tranquility. In archaic terms, it described the weather. Serenity suggests a lofty calmness. One could learn this, practice this, as one can practice patience and prudence, by making choices in remaining serene. Yet, the loftiness of it introduces the grace given, grace by God.
In reading Garrigou-Lagrange's Contemplation and Christian Perfection, am learning that God is the motive and force, of course!--behind all movement within the soul, all action, except to act in sin. To practice serenity would be granted the good graces and helps by God, for this is good. Serenity is good.
Today there is a serenity of heart and soul and mind. The relationship difficulties with family members and others that arise, the difficulties with the "world" in being cheated and also in being distracted, seem silly now. They are nothing compared to the snow blowing across Lake Immaculata. The snow is natural, lovely, silent and serene.
Just believe and have faith. Do not be disturbed. The grace of God informs all within the soul, and the grace of God gives all that is necessary. Daily trials are merely daily trials, to be worked through utilizing the practiced Nine S'.
The Three S' became the Seven S' and now are the Nine S'. For the complete hermit life (or the complete, intergral Catholic life), one must practice silence, solitude, slowness, suffering, selflessness, simplicity, stability, stillness and serenity. The hermit must practice these to a high degree.
One might wonder, "Why not self-mastery as one of the s'?" Self-mastery, necessary for the virtue of meekness, in self-control over the passions, is inherent in some of the listed s'. But this list goes further than self-mastery, as selflessness and suffering lead into charity. Serenity may be a fruit of this life; but we are pondering this state, to comprehend serenity and if it is something to practice and acquire or is a grace.
Andrew the Heron is serene.
The snow is serene.
What is serenity? It is a calm, a tranquility. In archaic terms, it described the weather. Serenity suggests a lofty calmness. One could learn this, practice this, as one can practice patience and prudence, by making choices in remaining serene. Yet, the loftiness of it introduces the grace given, grace by God.
In reading Garrigou-Lagrange's Contemplation and Christian Perfection, am learning that God is the motive and force, of course!--behind all movement within the soul, all action, except to act in sin. To practice serenity would be granted the good graces and helps by God, for this is good. Serenity is good.
Today there is a serenity of heart and soul and mind. The relationship difficulties with family members and others that arise, the difficulties with the "world" in being cheated and also in being distracted, seem silly now. They are nothing compared to the snow blowing across Lake Immaculata. The snow is natural, lovely, silent and serene.
Just believe and have faith. Do not be disturbed. The grace of God informs all within the soul, and the grace of God gives all that is necessary. Daily trials are merely daily trials, to be worked through utilizing the practiced Nine S'.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Stripped and Dying
The stripping continues. The adult children are stripped away, and perhaps due to Catholicism. Yet, who shall I follow? Where do they lead, these adult children?
We must be led to God, to follow Christ. If others do not share knowledge of and value in the Church, and cannot be reasoned with, then there is no alternative but to be stripped. Yes, we can be charitable yet, but must accept that the relationships will never delve into that which is of greatest importance to the soul, the love of the heart, the occupation of the mind.
Where the heart is, there will by thy treasure. Am making arrangements to be free of ownership, to the greatest extent possible and yet not be a hindrance to others. One must be responsible; a hermit cannot subsist on others. There are ways to gift one's hermitage to the Church, to remain in it, manage and upkeep the property, but yet not own it. Today, a car is necessary if one lives on the outskirts without public transportation, and wants to go to Mass! The roads for walking are treacherous with traffic. It is not charitable to depend upon others for rides.
Out in the world, even in shopping, one finds others taking advantage. It is difficult to not develop consumer rage. The injustice, even in something as seemingly small as being overcharged (grossly) for mailing a package when one has asked for the least expensive postage. This was in a Pak-n-Mail place, and the man cheated; another customer pointed it out, but he claimed for one package that it was too late, the postage had been billed. This incident filled the soul with much anger which does not fit comfortably in a soul.
The stores continue to make one ill. Spending and shopping overwhelm the senses. Being taken advantage of to the point of not being able to trust unhinges freedom to love.
It is a lesson, all this. It is the stripping of the senses right down to the soul. One is offered an opportunity, thus, to hibernate in the hermitage, to be stripped of the outer world and to embrace the death which is so liberating.
What more can be eliminated? So many possessions surround, such as the outstanding books, orchids, family pieces. Yet, these can be viewed, truly, as on loan, as borrowed and utilized from God Who is Owner of All. He is the Munificent Lender. He can give and take away. But to accumulate more must cease; the vain and empty wandering in a store, of even finding something for a gift--it is dead. Too often, in the world, one is cheated; it is the nature of greed.
The hermit is not to go back into the world! If so, it is merely pretending to be a hermit with no interior change. Yet, it is so, that if one is truly called to this life, the Lord will instill a sickness toward the world and all in it. The hermit will appreciate the stripping and dying when it comes.
We must be led to God, to follow Christ. If others do not share knowledge of and value in the Church, and cannot be reasoned with, then there is no alternative but to be stripped. Yes, we can be charitable yet, but must accept that the relationships will never delve into that which is of greatest importance to the soul, the love of the heart, the occupation of the mind.
Where the heart is, there will by thy treasure. Am making arrangements to be free of ownership, to the greatest extent possible and yet not be a hindrance to others. One must be responsible; a hermit cannot subsist on others. There are ways to gift one's hermitage to the Church, to remain in it, manage and upkeep the property, but yet not own it. Today, a car is necessary if one lives on the outskirts without public transportation, and wants to go to Mass! The roads for walking are treacherous with traffic. It is not charitable to depend upon others for rides.
Out in the world, even in shopping, one finds others taking advantage. It is difficult to not develop consumer rage. The injustice, even in something as seemingly small as being overcharged (grossly) for mailing a package when one has asked for the least expensive postage. This was in a Pak-n-Mail place, and the man cheated; another customer pointed it out, but he claimed for one package that it was too late, the postage had been billed. This incident filled the soul with much anger which does not fit comfortably in a soul.
The stores continue to make one ill. Spending and shopping overwhelm the senses. Being taken advantage of to the point of not being able to trust unhinges freedom to love.
It is a lesson, all this. It is the stripping of the senses right down to the soul. One is offered an opportunity, thus, to hibernate in the hermitage, to be stripped of the outer world and to embrace the death which is so liberating.
What more can be eliminated? So many possessions surround, such as the outstanding books, orchids, family pieces. Yet, these can be viewed, truly, as on loan, as borrowed and utilized from God Who is Owner of All. He is the Munificent Lender. He can give and take away. But to accumulate more must cease; the vain and empty wandering in a store, of even finding something for a gift--it is dead. Too often, in the world, one is cheated; it is the nature of greed.
The hermit is not to go back into the world! If so, it is merely pretending to be a hermit with no interior change. Yet, it is so, that if one is truly called to this life, the Lord will instill a sickness toward the world and all in it. The hermit will appreciate the stripping and dying when it comes.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Ears, Eyes, Nose of the Church
Finished reading Pere Bouyer's book, The Meaning of the Monastic Life. Have notes to write for other blogs, but on this sleeting April morning have thoughts on the hermit life, thus far.
Bouyer quotes St. Jerome as saying that priests preach and monks weep. Hermits ought to weep, as well. Weep for the Church, for sinners, for souls, for one's own nothingness and difficulties in renouncing the "world." It is not easy to give up ownership, to not possess or have possessions. Yet, we are to utilize objects necessary in our earthly sojourn.
Am making inquiry into how to gift the lovely hermitage here, to the Diocese. To live here, to pay taxes and insurances, to make the mortgage payments, to do upkeep--but yet to live as a guest with the Church being the owner. When the hermit is dead or can no longer live here, the Bishop may sell it or use it for other hermits, if there are any needing a place, or to have it for guests, as a house of prayer. The clothing in the closet may be used daily, as one going into the costume department and dressing for the daily "performance." Blending in yet acting a part is part of the hidden life of a hermit. And the acting the part is that of acting only so as to not be noticed, such as would be a stand-in: no lines, no credits, and no pay. All is as borrowed from God.
For the hermit to be the eyes of the Church means to observe. To be the ears means to listen. To be the nose means to keep the nose to the grindstone, to focus, to sniff out any wrongs needing correcting within one's soul. The hermit, as extension of the monk (perhaps as closest sibling), may also at times be the lips of the Church, to speak out if and when necessary, and to pray. Of course, the priest prays; so this analogy deals with what traits should be prominent to each. Verily, the integral Catholic should be all these, as well, to the Church, but not to the degree, for example, required of the hermit--and not at all as the priest's duties through Holy Orders. But the depth of the seed planted for holiness, and the striving toward holiness: these are for all souls.
St. Sharbel, mystic hermit of Lebanon, pray for us!
Bouyer quotes St. Jerome as saying that priests preach and monks weep. Hermits ought to weep, as well. Weep for the Church, for sinners, for souls, for one's own nothingness and difficulties in renouncing the "world." It is not easy to give up ownership, to not possess or have possessions. Yet, we are to utilize objects necessary in our earthly sojourn.
Am making inquiry into how to gift the lovely hermitage here, to the Diocese. To live here, to pay taxes and insurances, to make the mortgage payments, to do upkeep--but yet to live as a guest with the Church being the owner. When the hermit is dead or can no longer live here, the Bishop may sell it or use it for other hermits, if there are any needing a place, or to have it for guests, as a house of prayer. The clothing in the closet may be used daily, as one going into the costume department and dressing for the daily "performance." Blending in yet acting a part is part of the hidden life of a hermit. And the acting the part is that of acting only so as to not be noticed, such as would be a stand-in: no lines, no credits, and no pay. All is as borrowed from God.
For the hermit to be the eyes of the Church means to observe. To be the ears means to listen. To be the nose means to keep the nose to the grindstone, to focus, to sniff out any wrongs needing correcting within one's soul. The hermit, as extension of the monk (perhaps as closest sibling), may also at times be the lips of the Church, to speak out if and when necessary, and to pray. Of course, the priest prays; so this analogy deals with what traits should be prominent to each. Verily, the integral Catholic should be all these, as well, to the Church, but not to the degree, for example, required of the hermit--and not at all as the priest's duties through Holy Orders. But the depth of the seed planted for holiness, and the striving toward holiness: these are for all souls.
St. Sharbel, mystic hermit of Lebanon, pray for us!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Monk: Hermit; in Spiritus
Quotes from Pere Louis Bouyer's The Meaning of the Monastic Life
...the monk is and must be the 'Spiritual' in the Chuch, the man of the spirit par excellence. All Christians have received the Spirit through the mystery of the Holy Chrism, but he does not manifest himself equally in all.
Confirmation confers the gift of the Spirit, yet the Sacrament of Chrism seems now downplayed. If the monastic life is defined within the integral Christian life, then it must be accomplished as a life in the Holy Spirit. Monks who attained to the heights of the spiritual life were to manifest the Holy Spirit to others. Such was the case of Saint Seraphim of Sarov (and others) who imparted the Holy Spirit to the faithful even appearing in vision to do so.
The world of the spirit seems to exist as a reality, to the senses, as a world behind, as it were, the world of the senses, and this is seen by the light of faith. The Spirit reveals a new world, a new life, through putting into us a new life and makes us discover this new life in others. The Spirit alone can give the experience of Agape, the love which St. John indicated as the life of God, that God is Love.
It is the kind of love that strips itself of the good it posesses, that strips its very self. It is the kind of love that gives, a love that gives itself. God alone is capable, properly speaking, fo giving--he to whom all things belong. And he alone, the infinite, can give himself continualoly with no loss or diminution. In God, the Spirit is precisely the Gift, in which the depths of the divine life, of hte divine being, are revealed as something utterly different from the being of a creature who by making himself the centre of all things becomes paralyzed. Thus, it is the Spirit communicated from God to man who will shed abroad in our hearts the love which creates, which is the life of God. The Spirit will enable us to live this life, all o fus together, transporting us all into God himself, or , i fyou prefer, by bringing God into us, at the root of all our thoughts and all our affections.
Just as the monk in his capacity as man of hte Spirit will be a prophet, because filled with the vision of the divine Wisdom, so he will be a wonder-worker because the mystery o flove which is the key to this Wisdom will operate in him and through him. Just as the Spirit creates in him spiritual senses which mean that even in the midst of this world he sees what God sees and as he sees it, so he creates in him a spiritual heart, through which creative and redeeming love permeates the world to create it anew. By his very contemplative prayer, in which his faith sees God's great design infalliby realized, his love--which, to repeat, is the very love of God himself shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit--brings it about in the order of fact.
But the culminating effect of the Spirit in the soul is to bring about a relationship with God, a supernatural contact with God. This comes once more to the fundamental and overriding truth that God, and not ourselves, is the end and aim of our religion. Man is to glorify God.
In this sense, monastic/eremitic life is "theocentric"--turning man toward God and away from self.
The Holy Spirit assimilates God to us; this is the great work of the Spirit. This engrafting is that of our being taken into God, added to God in a way that our limitations vanish, that our lives become His life; we are one in Him and He in us. Thus we shall escape from our loneliness, from the solitude of every creature, of all creation separated from its Creator by sin. Henceforward, literally, "It is no longer I who live, it is Christ who liveth in me."
The flowering of the soul in the Spirit is beautifully expressed in The Odes of Solomon.
The monk is the man who is raised up by the Spirit, not this time from the primordial chaos...but from the sacrificial ashes in which death, freely accepted, has consumed sin....But this man reborn of Christ...is the man of the Spirit. He is not merely living soul but man living by the Spirit. His heart of flesh has become the temple of the true God. In him God begins to be all in all things. Henceforward he is free of the earth....He no longer gazes on the burning bush merely from outside. He himself is burning without being consumed amidst the lamps of the Spirit, around the Lamb Who was slain, standing near the throne.
...the monk is and must be the 'Spiritual' in the Chuch, the man of the spirit par excellence. All Christians have received the Spirit through the mystery of the Holy Chrism, but he does not manifest himself equally in all.
Confirmation confers the gift of the Spirit, yet the Sacrament of Chrism seems now downplayed. If the monastic life is defined within the integral Christian life, then it must be accomplished as a life in the Holy Spirit. Monks who attained to the heights of the spiritual life were to manifest the Holy Spirit to others. Such was the case of Saint Seraphim of Sarov (and others) who imparted the Holy Spirit to the faithful even appearing in vision to do so.
The world of the spirit seems to exist as a reality, to the senses, as a world behind, as it were, the world of the senses, and this is seen by the light of faith. The Spirit reveals a new world, a new life, through putting into us a new life and makes us discover this new life in others. The Spirit alone can give the experience of Agape, the love which St. John indicated as the life of God, that God is Love.
It is the kind of love that strips itself of the good it posesses, that strips its very self. It is the kind of love that gives, a love that gives itself. God alone is capable, properly speaking, fo giving--he to whom all things belong. And he alone, the infinite, can give himself continualoly with no loss or diminution. In God, the Spirit is precisely the Gift, in which the depths of the divine life, of hte divine being, are revealed as something utterly different from the being of a creature who by making himself the centre of all things becomes paralyzed. Thus, it is the Spirit communicated from God to man who will shed abroad in our hearts the love which creates, which is the life of God. The Spirit will enable us to live this life, all o fus together, transporting us all into God himself, or , i fyou prefer, by bringing God into us, at the root of all our thoughts and all our affections.
Just as the monk in his capacity as man of hte Spirit will be a prophet, because filled with the vision of the divine Wisdom, so he will be a wonder-worker because the mystery o flove which is the key to this Wisdom will operate in him and through him. Just as the Spirit creates in him spiritual senses which mean that even in the midst of this world he sees what God sees and as he sees it, so he creates in him a spiritual heart, through which creative and redeeming love permeates the world to create it anew. By his very contemplative prayer, in which his faith sees God's great design infalliby realized, his love--which, to repeat, is the very love of God himself shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit--brings it about in the order of fact.
But the culminating effect of the Spirit in the soul is to bring about a relationship with God, a supernatural contact with God. This comes once more to the fundamental and overriding truth that God, and not ourselves, is the end and aim of our religion. Man is to glorify God.
In this sense, monastic/eremitic life is "theocentric"--turning man toward God and away from self.
The Holy Spirit assimilates God to us; this is the great work of the Spirit. This engrafting is that of our being taken into God, added to God in a way that our limitations vanish, that our lives become His life; we are one in Him and He in us. Thus we shall escape from our loneliness, from the solitude of every creature, of all creation separated from its Creator by sin. Henceforward, literally, "It is no longer I who live, it is Christ who liveth in me."
The flowering of the soul in the Spirit is beautifully expressed in The Odes of Solomon.
The monk is the man who is raised up by the Spirit, not this time from the primordial chaos...but from the sacrificial ashes in which death, freely accepted, has consumed sin....But this man reborn of Christ...is the man of the Spirit. He is not merely living soul but man living by the Spirit. His heart of flesh has become the temple of the true God. In him God begins to be all in all things. Henceforward he is free of the earth....He no longer gazes on the burning bush merely from outside. He himself is burning without being consumed amidst the lamps of the Spirit, around the Lamb Who was slain, standing near the throne.
Monk: Hermit; thoughts on contemplation
The monastic life is a contemplative life; the ideal must be the vision of God. To see God face to face for eternity is the very life of the angels and the saints. For us here, in its best state and that of one progressed in contemplation, we live in a twilight; and that vision in this twilight is what a monk/hermit must strive for.
The monk is the man for whom God is a person: a person whom he can meet, whom he longs to meet, a person to meet whom he abandons everything else. "Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty"'; this promise is the motive power behind the monk's whole effort, once it has led him to loosen his hold on all those earthly things which so delight others.
This mystical element is central to the monk/hermit's life, to be alone with the One, solus cum solo. The genuine monk, who is such not only in external observances but interiorly from the heart, is a man who understands that he has undertaken the ascent of Mount Tabor. To see the light of Christ at the summit of the climb must be the monk/hermits highest aspiration.
A sense of the holiness of God is critical to the monk/hermit. He must be permeated with the holiness of God and to desire to exist on holy ground. God is not just a comrade or the gifter of benefits. The monk/hermit knows that God is the Lord, the Pure, the Inaccessible, the Wholly Other. The meaning of the word "holy" or "sacred" is "that which is set apart." To know God as Other includes entering into the Divine darkness, to comprehend that which God is not.
One has to reach this total obscurity in order to even begin to have a mere inkling of what God is. To speak of Him, to speak of seeking Him, is literally not to know what one is saying so long as one has not grasped something of this "mysterium tremendum". But the unsurpassable beauty of Christianity, the unrivalled grandeur of the monastic vocation, are revealed when, having attained to this holy fear of which we can truly say that it is the sole beginning of true wisdom, we can see welling up there what is to become the river of overflowing joy. For the divine Mystery, which is the "Mysterium tremendum", the mystery which communicates to us a fear which is like to us no other fear and which has been revealed to us in the Gospel in its fullness, reveals to us at the same time that it is also the "Mysterium fascinosum", the mystery which is supremely desirable [fascinating?].
Grace is the gift of God.
John Cardinal Henry Newman's poem, "The Dream of Gerontius", demonstrates man's being caught afire with desire for that which will seemingly shatter him. It is this mysterious, double movement toward God which is both desirable yet fearsome. The Psalms express this movement: the longing to be in God's presence; the fear of His awesome holiness; the inexpressible joy in God.
The monk is precisely the Christian who has recognized in Christ the way, the truth, the life, and intends to act logically over this discovery, a discovery of such a nature that it should not leave any of those who have made it tepid or indifferent...The monk, like the seer of the Apocolypse, has seen a door opened in heaven...From now on, for the monk, everything resolves itself into passing through that door, into plunging into the vision which it opens on to the Invisible.
All this is tantamount to saying that the ascent of the Thabor of contemplation, and the entering into the luminous cloud where God dwells, and the vision of Christ transfigured, are all one.
The monk is one who lives not only "with" Christ, but according to the extraordinary Pauline expression, "in" Christ.
This does not necessitate undergoing a mystical experience, although in another way, the mystical experience is what constitutes, for a monk/hermit, the daily existence. St. Gregory the Great wrote of contemplation as the natural environment o fhte monk/hermit:
There is in contemplation a great effort of the mind, when it rises to heavenly things, when it fixes its attention on spiritual things, when it strives to pass beyond all that is visible, when it withdraws into itself in order that it may be expanded. And sometimes, indeed, it is carried away and takes its flight above the darkness of its stubborn blindness, so that it reaches out in some measure to the infinite light, furtively and in an imperfect manner. But, in spite of all, immediately baffled, it returns to itself, and sighing, re-enters the darkness of its blindness, as it goes out into this light into which it passed trembling. [Homilies on Ezekiel II, 11.12 and ff.]
Jesus Christ, in whom God reveals himself in giving himself, is the sole Bridegroom of an unique Bride, the Church. The Church does not seek for the truth and knowledge of God. She has them...The individual Christian life, par excellence, that is monastic life, is then only an insertion by faith, the prayer of faith, and the reception of the mysteries of faith, into this life of the Church. It is by that and by that alone that such a life will enter into the heritage of the treasures of wisdom and knowledge which are hidden (and revealed) in Christ Jesus.
As a contemplative, the monk has in no sense to be a discoverer of new continents, nor, consequently, the subject of unheard-of or exceptional experiences. He has only to allow himself to be wholly absorbed by the realities of faith which were all set before him at the beginning of his believing, but which a whole life of detachment and prayer will not be too much to enable him to penetrate and in some measure to be penetrated by them.
And, the Mass is central to the reality of this mystery. Through the Mass we share in the mystery of redemption, through Communion we communicate in the Redeemer himself. And in the sacred psalmody, Christ the eternal Word of God, himself speaks in us to God; the Spirit who intercedes in us with unutterable groanings....
The monk/hermit then can say, "I live, not now I, but Christ liveth in me".
The monk is the man for whom God is a person: a person whom he can meet, whom he longs to meet, a person to meet whom he abandons everything else. "Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty"'; this promise is the motive power behind the monk's whole effort, once it has led him to loosen his hold on all those earthly things which so delight others.
This mystical element is central to the monk/hermit's life, to be alone with the One, solus cum solo. The genuine monk, who is such not only in external observances but interiorly from the heart, is a man who understands that he has undertaken the ascent of Mount Tabor. To see the light of Christ at the summit of the climb must be the monk/hermits highest aspiration.
A sense of the holiness of God is critical to the monk/hermit. He must be permeated with the holiness of God and to desire to exist on holy ground. God is not just a comrade or the gifter of benefits. The monk/hermit knows that God is the Lord, the Pure, the Inaccessible, the Wholly Other. The meaning of the word "holy" or "sacred" is "that which is set apart." To know God as Other includes entering into the Divine darkness, to comprehend that which God is not.
One has to reach this total obscurity in order to even begin to have a mere inkling of what God is. To speak of Him, to speak of seeking Him, is literally not to know what one is saying so long as one has not grasped something of this "mysterium tremendum". But the unsurpassable beauty of Christianity, the unrivalled grandeur of the monastic vocation, are revealed when, having attained to this holy fear of which we can truly say that it is the sole beginning of true wisdom, we can see welling up there what is to become the river of overflowing joy. For the divine Mystery, which is the "Mysterium tremendum", the mystery which communicates to us a fear which is like to us no other fear and which has been revealed to us in the Gospel in its fullness, reveals to us at the same time that it is also the "Mysterium fascinosum", the mystery which is supremely desirable [fascinating?].
Grace is the gift of God.
John Cardinal Henry Newman's poem, "The Dream of Gerontius", demonstrates man's being caught afire with desire for that which will seemingly shatter him. It is this mysterious, double movement toward God which is both desirable yet fearsome. The Psalms express this movement: the longing to be in God's presence; the fear of His awesome holiness; the inexpressible joy in God.
The monk is precisely the Christian who has recognized in Christ the way, the truth, the life, and intends to act logically over this discovery, a discovery of such a nature that it should not leave any of those who have made it tepid or indifferent...The monk, like the seer of the Apocolypse, has seen a door opened in heaven...From now on, for the monk, everything resolves itself into passing through that door, into plunging into the vision which it opens on to the Invisible.
All this is tantamount to saying that the ascent of the Thabor of contemplation, and the entering into the luminous cloud where God dwells, and the vision of Christ transfigured, are all one.
The monk is one who lives not only "with" Christ, but according to the extraordinary Pauline expression, "in" Christ.
This does not necessitate undergoing a mystical experience, although in another way, the mystical experience is what constitutes, for a monk/hermit, the daily existence. St. Gregory the Great wrote of contemplation as the natural environment o fhte monk/hermit:
There is in contemplation a great effort of the mind, when it rises to heavenly things, when it fixes its attention on spiritual things, when it strives to pass beyond all that is visible, when it withdraws into itself in order that it may be expanded. And sometimes, indeed, it is carried away and takes its flight above the darkness of its stubborn blindness, so that it reaches out in some measure to the infinite light, furtively and in an imperfect manner. But, in spite of all, immediately baffled, it returns to itself, and sighing, re-enters the darkness of its blindness, as it goes out into this light into which it passed trembling. [Homilies on Ezekiel II, 11.12 and ff.]
Jesus Christ, in whom God reveals himself in giving himself, is the sole Bridegroom of an unique Bride, the Church. The Church does not seek for the truth and knowledge of God. She has them...The individual Christian life, par excellence, that is monastic life, is then only an insertion by faith, the prayer of faith, and the reception of the mysteries of faith, into this life of the Church. It is by that and by that alone that such a life will enter into the heritage of the treasures of wisdom and knowledge which are hidden (and revealed) in Christ Jesus.
As a contemplative, the monk has in no sense to be a discoverer of new continents, nor, consequently, the subject of unheard-of or exceptional experiences. He has only to allow himself to be wholly absorbed by the realities of faith which were all set before him at the beginning of his believing, but which a whole life of detachment and prayer will not be too much to enable him to penetrate and in some measure to be penetrated by them.
And, the Mass is central to the reality of this mystery. Through the Mass we share in the mystery of redemption, through Communion we communicate in the Redeemer himself. And in the sacred psalmody, Christ the eternal Word of God, himself speaks in us to God; the Spirit who intercedes in us with unutterable groanings....
The monk/hermit then can say, "I live, not now I, but Christ liveth in me".
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