From those choices, mountains. I live on the beach. In fact, I can see the “bay” from my porch. But during my time here, I think I have been to the beach once. So maybe the mountains are more my thing?!
Why the mountains? Because they are not the beach? Or, it would be a change for me. Hermits often live in the mountains.
Perhaps a third option is the desert. Yes, it can be hot and very cold, but the isolation! And no one would visit. Is it NBN ready?
Without a doubt Soren Kierkegaard. Perhaps in a coffee shop? I know he takes his espresso with seven sugars.
Besides the language barrier—I don’t speak Danish—I think we could have a nice conversation. Or, I could simply listen. From what I have read about him, I think we have a lot of things in common. We could talk about irony, faith, despair, or perhaps the state of the modern sermon. Of course, we could talk about Christology, one of my favourite topics, or the power of abstractions in the modern age. I would love to ask his take on social media, modern democracy, or the state of the church.
Why Kierkegaard? He has been the most interesting and insightful person since Augustine of Hippo in the last 1500 years. And he is not the “same-same” as the majority of thinkers.
I never read just one book. I have multiple books on the go at once in multiple locations. So …
In the chapel:
Common Worship: Daily Prayer and NRSV Bible. (This is not technologically true. I use a version of Common Worship that I have adjusted to my needs, but the outline is there.) I also use several different prayer books for other devotions.
In the dayroom (that is, the inner cell):
This Is Epistemology: An Introduction by J. Adam Carter and Clayton Littlejohn.
Also:
Rasputin: Faith, Power, and the Twilight of the Romanovs by Douglas Smith
Also:
The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism by Douglas Burton-Christie
In the parlour (main room where people can visit):
The Nature of Biblical Criticism by John Barton
Also:
The Word in the Desert: Anglican and Roman catholic Reactions to Liturgical Reform by Barry Spurr
Also (and, to be honest, I like to have this book on hand to “soothe my soul”):
Anglican Papalism: A History: 1900-1960 by Michael Yelton
I am also reading a novel:
The Vinyl Detective: Written in Dead Wax by Andrew Cartmel
On my Kindle (that travels with me):
Introducing Medieval Biblical Interpretation: The Senses of Scripture in Premodern Exegesis by Ian Christopher Levy
Now that was real fun! I love talking about books.
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He ate distasteful food; wore a hair shirt next his skin; used the discipline on his body; accepted humiliations with the eagerness of a saint; said Mass every day at four; ignored malaise and headaches; made acts of humiliation when servants touched their caps to him; and had a rule of life “always to lie down in bed, confessing that I am unworthy to lie down except in Hell, but, so praying, to lie down in the Everlasting Arms.” To look into his face was to see the light of Heaven. Thus his sermons were listened to by breathless congregations, in spite of their inordinate length and his monotonous delivery.
Anyone want to guess the saint?
Eremites, or “inhabitants of a desert,” from the Greek ἔρημος, sometimes called solitaries, recluses, or anchorites, were men and women who retired into the desert to live a spirituality of contemplative isolation. Taking their inspiration from the forty years that Israel spent wandering in the desert and the forty days that the Lord spent fasting and battling with temptation in the desolation, hermits embraced a spirituality of on-going conversion, spiritual combat, penance, and solitude.
Anchorites and anchoresses were a related form of consecrated life during the Middle Ages. These urban hermits (frequently women) lived in the solitude of an “anchorage,” or “anchor hold,” a small cell built against the wall of a church. Stability and enclosure as a means of protecting contemplative prayer are hallmarks of this form of consecrated life, much more so than in the more generic eremitic way of life. The door of the anchorage was sealed by the bishop in a liturgy resembling a funeral, signifying that the anchoress who enclosed herself therein had died to the world. A tiny window called a “squint” allowed the anchoress to listen to Mass and receive holy Communion. Another window led out to the street, enabling benefactors to deliver food and receive spiritual advice. The anchoritic way of life persisted until at least the sixteenth century, notably in England.
Hermits and Consecrated Virgins, Ancient Vocations in the Contemporary Catholic Church:
A Canonical-Pastoral Study of Canons 603 and 604 Individual Forms of Consecrated Life
So, the “marks” of the urban recluse are
I do not like the term penance in this context—I think asceticism is closer. (Penance is a part of asceticism, but not all ascetic practices are penitential.)
I think there is a sense in which 1, 2, and 3 can be summarised by the term asceticism.
So, as a starting point, these are the marks of the enclosed solitary life:
I am wondering how I could “up my game”. While searching the internet, I read the following and it makes sense:
Asceticism in Modern Spirituality
While it’s true that asceticism – like many aspects of faith and human life – was abused at times in Church history, the legacy of asceticism is that of making saints. And it still has that power today in your own spiritual life. Why should you practice asceticism? Here are some powerful reasons.1. Asceticism combats habitual sin. If you struggle to control your desire for something you tend to abuse (food, drink, sex, comfort, etc), practicing self-denial is like building your spiritual muscles against it.
2. Asceticism builds the virtue of temperance. Temperance is the virtue that balances our desires for physical goods. When our desires are out of balance (a condition of Original Sin called “concupiscence”), we need to reset the balance with self-denial.
3. Asceticism protects you against the excesses of the culture. Like the culture the early Christians lived in, our modern culture has deified entertainment, luxury, and physical pleasure. While Christians can give lip service to resisting these temptations, the truth is that we’re immersed in this culture and it’s difficult not to be transformed by it. Asceticism helps us to set our hearts on the greater goods and to resist laxity of heart and open our hearts to be transformed by grace.
4. Asceticism moves our hearts away from selfishness. We live in air-conditioned comfort, even in our cars. We get used to having entertainment literally at our fingertips. Everything in our lives is built around convenience, entertainment, and comfort. Even the largest hearts among us can become lax when we get used to being comfortable all the time. Self-sacrifice prevents our modern lifestyle from sinking too deeply into our hearts. This was the reason Saint Francis required his brothers to serve the poor by living among the poor and why Dominicans also took a vow of poverty. Monastic orders at the time lived luxuriously and religious men and women were losing the true sense of their vocation. The same principle applies to lay people living in the world.
5. Asceticism can be an act of love. Like the first Desert Fathers and Desert Mothers, we can offer our self-sacrifice as a token of dedicating our complete lives to Jesus. Asceticism can exercise the theological virtue of charity. It can be an act of love for God, and we can also offer our voluntary suffering for the salvation of souls, making it an act of Christ-like love for our neighbor.
Asceticism plays the same role for us today that it did for the early Christians after the Edict of Milan. It shapes our hearts away from concupiscence (sinful desire) towards God and selflessness. It exercises the selfless love of charity. Of course, we want to avoid the excesses and abuses that have given asceticism a bad name (think of Hollywood’s portrayal of the scrupulous Catholic whipping himself bloody with a Cat-O-Nine-Tails in front of a crucifix all night). But properly used, asceticism is an invaluable tool in our spiritual toolbox.
The Role of Asceticism in Modern Spirituality
I love where I live now. It is more than a house; it is a “home for a solitary”. To be honest, I am thinking of moving. Maybe it is simply my state of mind at the moment? I am disappointed in people. I can only change “me” so. I need to lower my expectations. That does not change the darkness within at the moment. Being a nobody with no history and no story would be magic. So the option is moving to somewhere to be alone.
But it must be Merton’s hermitage if I could live somewhere else. In pictures, it looks so idyllic. It has a chapel, an altar, a stove, and an open fireplace. So that is where I would live if I could.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
and his intention toward me was love.
As an enclosed solitary, I live alone to not skip any part of my routine. The space it gives me, the solitude and silence, is the freedom to be present in the moment to Jesus. The routine is to return – to return to Jesus in the now.
The life I lived before was all about skipping that moment of return. It was about other people, and, as I have realised, it was spent chasing other people’s affection.
But, on a purely practical level, I try to skip housework!
Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?
Not a meeting people kind of person. I once knew a bishop who was in the news. He was mentioned in Parliament. He ordained me. Apart from him, no one famous.
But infamous! That would be me. Well, at least in some people’s minds.
a fool and his prayer book 