Author: Hm Rachel

Fighting demons:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Fighting demons: Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter XIII

Both Cuthbert and the Desert dwellers seem to have similar ideas about “demons”. They are illusory – but even the illusion of them is enough to entangle, frustrate, frighten or even defeat us. C603 acknowledges these as “spiritual struggles”. The common-sense advice of all three is heartening.


HOW HE FORESAW A VISION OF A FIRE COMING FROM THE DEVIL WHILST HE WAS PREACHING, AND HOW HE PUT OUT THE SAME

ABOUT the same time, as he was preaching the word of life to a number of persons assembled in a certain village, he suddenly saw in the spirit our old enemy coming to retard the work of salvation, and forthwith began by admonitions to prevent the snares and devices which he saw were coming. “Dearest brethren,” said he, “as often as you hear the mysteries of the heavenly kingdom preached to you, you should listen with attentive heart and with watchful feelings, lest the devil, who has a thousand ways of harming you, prevent you by superfluous cares from hearing the word of salvation.” As he said these words, he resumed the thread of his discourse, and immediately that wicked enemy, bringing supernatural fire, set light to a neighbouring house, so that flakes of fire seemed to fly through the air, and a storm of wind and thunder shook the sky.

Nearly the whole multitude rushed forward, to extinguish the fire, (for he restrained a few of them himself,) but yet with all their real water they could not put out the false flames, until, at Cuthbert’s prayer, the author of the deceit was put to flight, and his fictitious fires dispersed along with him. The multitude, seeing this, were suffused with ingenuous blushes, and, falling on their knees before him, prayed to be forgiven for their fickleness of mind, acknowledging their conviction that the devil never rests even for an hour from impeding the work of man’s salvation. But he, encouraging them under their infirmity, again began to preach to them the words of everlasting life.

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...The vocation of the hermit is to remain with God alone, the Unum necessarium, through paths of liberation, of evangelical conversion, in which the fatigue of the spiritual struggle is experienced to reach the purification of the heart. HLPC 11

The fact of remaining on the margin recalls the imagery of the desert. understood by the ancient desert-dwellers as an emblematic place above all to express the separation from the world and the harshness of spiritual combat, which hermits often experience. HLPC 25

… life in solitude, while providing advantages from the point of view of meditation and inner concentration, can be the occasion of trials, discomforts, unforeseen events, which require to be approached with balance and responsibility. HLPC 30

One of the earliest tropes of ancient hermitage as they headed off into the desert, was the desire “to fight demons”. In contemporary parlance “demons” would probably indicate our personal shortcomings, foibles, frustrations, obsessions, preoccupations and passions (also a word frequently wielded by the desert dwellers). Although the imagery in the desert stories around the “demons” was quite vivid – and, indeed, presented itself as fire in the story about Cuthbert’s preaching, it is these (often minor, but insidious and persistent) personal temptations and infractions that they were primarily concerned with. How to stay focussed on Unam necessarium (the one thing necessary – God!) when beset by all these distractions and unhelpful proclivities?

The answers it seems are straight forward and forthright. Here is St Anthony despairing of getting-it-right, and being taught by an angel:

When the holy Abba Anthony lived in the desert he was beset by accidie and attacked by many sinful thoughts. He said to God, ‘Lord, I want to be saved but these thoughts do not leave me alone; what shall I do in my afflictions? How can I be saved?’ A short while afterwards, when he got up to go out, Anthony saw a man like himself sitting at his work, getting up from his work to pray, then sitting down and plaiting a rope, then getting up again to pray. It was an Angel of the Lord sent to correct and reassure him. He heard the Angel saying to him, ‘Do this and you will be saved.’ At these words Anthony was filled with joy and courage. He did this and he was saved. AC Anthony 1

And very similar advice to Abba Arsenius:

“Someone said to Abba Arsenius, ‘My thoughts trouble me, saying, ‘You can neither fast nor work; at least go and visit the sick, for that is also charity.’ ‘  But the old man, recognising the suggestions of the demons said to him, ‘Go, eat, drink, sleep, do no work, only do not leave your cell.’  For he knew that steadfastness in the cell keeps a monk in the right way.” AC Arsenius 11

The desert dwellers had learnt that the only way to deal with these obstacles was to stay where you are, and focus on what-you-are-doing. There is a lovely story of the old man who engaged with his distractions, running after them, trying to control them. It is a thankless task and will overwhelm us:

“Abba Elias said, “An old man was living in a temple and the demons came to say to him. ‘Leave this place which belongs to us’, and the old man said ‘No place belongs to you.’  Then they began to scatter his palm leaves about, one by one, and the old man went on gathering them with perseverance.  A little later the devil took his hand and pulled him to the door.  When the old man reached the door, he seized the lintel with the other hand crying out, ‘Jesus, save me!’  Immediately the devil fled.  Then the old man began to weep.  Then the Lord said to him, ‘Why are you weeping?’ and the old man said, ‘Because the devils have dared to seize a man and treat him like this.’  The Lord said to him,  ‘You had been careless.  As soon as you turned to me again, you see I was beside you.’  I say this because it is necessary to take great pains, and anyone who does not do so cannot come to his God.  For he himself was crucified for our sake.” AC Elias 7

Ultimately, what-you-are-doing is being in the presence of God. If your body and mind are occupied with your tasks, then your heart is present with God. This doesn’t mean sitting in rapt ecstasy for days on end – that is the fire that Cuthbert points out to the villagers – and extinguishes. Doing ordinary things, in the place given to you, without seeking novelty, and with focus. This is how to be present with God.

Mutuality:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Mutuality: Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter XII

The capacity to commune and cooperate with the animals – eagles, otters, horses, ravens (soon!) is a common trope amongst the hagiographies of the early saints.  It reflects a sense of mutuality between ourselves and the rest of creation.  Perhaps an ecological mutuality which needs to be nurtured in these days of growing concern for the wellbeing of our planet.

I love the final image of this story – Cuthbert and his companion, with the householders of the village, frying fish around an open fire, and the eagle still with her own portion of fish to feed her young.  All contributing, all partaking.  Is that not the essence of mutuality?

HOW HE FORETOLD THAT, ON A JOURNEY, AN EAGLE WOULD BRING HIM FOOD, AND HOW THIS TOOK PLACE ACCORDINGLY

IT happened, also, that on a certain day he was going forth from the monastery to preach, with one attendant only, and when they became tired with walking, though a great part of their journey still lay before them ere they could reach the village to which they were going, Cuthbert said to his follower, “Where shall we stop to take refreshment? or do you know any one on the road to whom we may turn in ? “-” I was myself thinking on the same subject,” said the boy; “for we have brought no provisions with us. and I know no one on the road who will entertain us, and we have a long journey still before us, which we cannot well accomplish without eating. ” The man of God replied, ” My son, learn to have faith, and trust in God, who will never suffer to perish with hunger those who trust in Him.” Then looking up, and seeing an eagle flying in the air, he said, ” Do you perceive that eagle yonder? It is possible for God to feed us even by means of that eagle.” As they were thus discoursing, they came near a river, and behold the eagle was standing on its bank. “Look,” said the man of God, “there is our handmaid, the eagle, that I spoke to you about. Run, and see what provision God hath sent us, and come again and tell me.”

The boy ran, and found a good-sized fish, which the eagle had just caught. But the man of God reproved him, ” What have you done, my son? Why have you not given part to God’s handmaid? Cut the fish in two pieces, and give her one, as her service well deserves.” He did as he was bidden, and carried the other part with him on his journey. When the time for eating was come, they turned aside to a certain village, and having given the fish to be cooked, made an excellent repast, and gave also to their entertainers, whilst Cuthbert preached to them the word of God, and blessed Him for his mercies; for happy is the man whose hope is in the name of the Lord, and who has not looked upon vanity and foolish deceit. After this, they resumed their journey, to preach to those among whom they were going.

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Canon 603 makes this rather cryptic statement about the purpose of the hermit’s separation from the world being the salvation of the world. “The Church recognises the life of hermits or anchorites, in which Christ’s faithful withdraw further from the world and devote their lives to … the salvation of the world.” This takes a little unpacking. and is perhaps best explained by the principle of mutuality.

“The hermit who distances themselves from the world does not flee out of fear or contempt.  They lived in the world, and were called, Christianly, to seek to love it and to look at it with the eyes and the love that God revealed to us in Jesus, who loved the world until the end.  Without the world, one cannot conceive of an exit from the world: one separates oneself from the world to save it, one moves away to integrate it, The exterior thus become interior, the distant becomes near, the excluded is desired included.  This is why separating does not mean fleeing. HLPC 24

Mutuality is a bit like solidarity – but more so! Solidarity generally involves standing alongside others; mutuality goes one step further to identify with the other. We will discuss in a later post how this is formalised in the covenant of solemn profession and consecration. At this point though we are considering something less formal, but just as intimate and world-changing. I have mentioned before the words of Pope Francis with respect to the Synodal processes of the Church. They are very useful words “No one is to be left out; let them all in; let them ask questions. Let their questions become your questions”

How is this translated specifically into the language and spirituality of the hermitage?



I am going to go off-piste a little here by considering specifically, the “ecclesiological model” of hermitage, using the teachings of St Peter Damien.

Peter was an 11th century Benedictine hermit/bishop.  (ref image attached).  One of the great debates occupying the minds of the hermits of the day, was the question of praying on your own.  When a hermit was praying in solitude, could they legitimately pray the call/response “The Lord be with you” “And also with you”?  Peter wrote a whole book about it, and his answer was a resounding “YES!”.

“Indeed the Church of Christ is united in all her parts by such a bond of love that her several members form a single body and in each one the whole Church is mystically present, so that the whole Church Universal may rightly be called the one Bride of Christ, and on the other hand every single soul can, because of the mystical effect of the Sacrament, be regarded as the whole Church”. 
from The Book of “The Lord be with you”  (Dominus Vobiscum) a treatise by St Peter Damien, Bishop and Doctor of the Church. (1007-1072).

His teaching was that as each hermit is created in the image of Christ – confirmed by baptism – so each hold within them the fullness of Christ – the fullness of Church.  Peter went so far as to say that each hermit is Church unto themself.  The motif of hermitage as tabernacle which I referred to in a previous post, is in part derived from this: “a reality imbued with the hidden presence of God” (Pope Paul VI)*.   “in Christ, a sacrament … of communion with God and of the unity of the human race” (Dogmatic constitution on the Church)*.

It took me a long while to get a sense of what hermitage was for.  I knew it was “home”, the place I was meant to be, but what was I supposed to be doing here?  The answer perhaps lies in this theology of ecclesiology.  If the hermit is the fullness of Church in themself, then whatever is redeemed in the solitary hermit, is also redeemed in the whole of the Church.  And, (ref earlier post)  whatever is true of a hermit is also true of everyone else – so, whatever is redeemed in each and every member of Christ, is redeemed in the whole Church too. This is surely the ultimate in mutuality?

Grace:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Grace: Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter XI

This is another iconic image of Cuthbert as he sails away on his many voyages around the Northumberland coastline. On this occasion he is not sailing to his solitude, but as part of his ministry as Prior.

This image also reminds me of another northern saint – further north – Magnus of Orkney. He was a martyr to the cause of peace in the fierce Viking wars of the time. He had himself tied to the mast of one of the fighting ships, and sang psalms of praise to God throughout the battle! I imagine a little boat like Cuthbert’s here. He survived that bout, and eventually became an Earl in his own right, but was later slain by his feuding cousin. This is a great account of the legends around him: Who was St Magnus of Orkney? – St. Magnus The Martyr



HOW, WHEN THE SAILORS WERE PREVENTED FROM SAILING BY BAD WEATHER, HE PREDICTED THAT IT WOULD BE FINE ON A CERTAIN DAY, AND HOW HE OBTAINED FOOD BY PRAYER

MEANWHILE the man of God began to wax strong in the spirit of prophecy, to foretell future events, and to describe to those he was with what things were going on elsewhere. Once upon a time he left the monastery for some necessary reason, and went by sea to the land of the Picts, which is called Niduari. Two of the brethren accompanied him; and one of these, who afterwards discharged the priest’s office, made known to several the miracle which the man of God there performed.

They arrived there the day after Christmas-day, hoping, because the weather and sea were both tranquil, that they should soon return; and for this reason they took no food with them. They were, however, deceived in their expectations; for no sooner were they come to land, than a tempest arose, and prevented them from returning. After stopping there several days, suffering from cold and hunger, the day of the holy Epiphany was at hand, and the man of God, who had spent the night in prayer and watching, not in idleness or sloth, addressed them with cheerful and soothing language, as he was accustomed: “Why do we remain here idle? Let us do the best we can to save ourselves. The ground is covered with snow, and the heaven with clouds; the currents of both winds and waves are right against us: we are famished with hunger, and there is no one to relieve us. Let us importune the Lord with our prayers, that, as He opened to his people a path through the Red Sea, and miraculously fed them in the wilderness, He may take pity on us also in our present distress. If our faith does not waver, I do not think He will suffer us to remain all this day fasting-a day which He formerly made so bright with his heavenly majesty.

I pray you, therefore, to come with me and see what provision He has made for us, that we may ourselves rejoice in his joy.” Saying these words, he led them to the shore where he himself had been accustomed to pray at night. On their arrival, they found there three pieces of dolphin’s flesh, looking as if some one had cut them and prepared them to be cooked. They fell on their knees and gave thanks to God. “You see, my beloved brethren,” said Cuthbert, “how great is the grace of God to him who hopes and trusts in the Lord. Behold, He has prepared food for his servants; and by the number three points out to us how long we must remain here. Take, therefore, the gifts which Christ has sent us; let us go and refresh ourselves, and abide here without fear, for after three days there will most assuredly be a calm, both of the heavens and of the sea.” All this was so as he had said: three days the storm lasted most violently; on the fourth day the promised calm followed, and they returned with a fair wind home.

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Grace is usually defined as the gratuitous gift from God to the undeserving. If I’m honest, I am not convinced that God’s gratuity can be in any way deemed to be that judgemental. I don’t find God’s grace to make any sort of distinction between the deserving or the undeserving – Grace is the gratuity, the generosity, the pouring forth, the self-giving of God, because God chooses to give. Our response to grace is not one of self-justification, but of gratitude.

So many of the stories of Cuthbert (like this one) are a constant to-ing and fro-ing in this relationship of grace. Cuthbert, or his friends, are in need; God gives; Cuthbert thanks and praises. Sometimes Cuthbert is not in need, and God gives anyway (remember the gift of bread which we read about in chapter 7?); and Cuthbert thanks and praises. If (as our Scripture and teachings suggests) we are to be in imitation of God, then we too need to give of ourselves gratuitously. One of the ways we can practise this might be in giving ourselves freely to the adoration and praise of God.

“The hermit’s prayer is an assiduous path between adoration and praise. She realises, in a special way, “the confessio Trinitas which characterises all Christian life, recognising with admiration the sublime beauty of God [Mother]Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and joyfully witnessing to God’s loving condescension for every human being”. Adoration is the first attitude of one who recognises themself as a creature before their Creator. It exalts the greatness of the God who created us and the omnipotence of the Saviour who frees us from evil. It is the prostration of the spirit before the “God of glory” and the respectful silence in the presence of God, always greater than us”. HLPC 18

An assiduous prayer of gratitude might come naturally to a hermit – she has a lot to be grateful for! But how is it achieved? Through the liturgies of the Office and the psalms; through spiritual reading and through study – yes – all of those. But mostly (for this hermit anyway) through a constant companionship throughout the day.

The C603 guidance puts it all in flowery (and badly translated!) language, but if you read it carefully you may well find it fully describes your own personal expression of “assiduous…adoration and praise”. As I say often on this website, the experience of the hermit is the experience of every person (though perhaps hermits have a bit more time to notice it?).

The encyclical Dei Verbum (1965) further explains: “Grace is God’s communication to us of Godself. God’s love for us is such that God became human, incarnate as a man in a specific time and a specific place. This Word made flesh is the culmination, the manifestation, the fullest Revelation of God to humanity in Creation.”

I am always a bit bemused by that ”became” (God became human). If our humanity, from the beginning of our history (Genesis), is formed in the image of GOD  – the image of GOD’s humanity  –  then how could GOD ever be not-human?  How could we be made in the image of something that GOD once was not?  GOD is human from the beginning (John 1:1).  Whilst Jesus’s birth, life, death and resurrection consummated GOD’s humanity into the historical realm (John 13:29), that consummation has to have been effective outside of history, throughout, and from the beginning of time.  

So, “by the grace of GOD” – by God’s free gift – I share in GOD’s humanity; in the shared humanity of the Christ and the whole of the human race, And this grace of humanity – this gift of Godself – is freely given.

As is the meal of dolphin flesh found on the seashore.

I like to use this prayer shared by Cuthbert with his companions before they began their dolphin meal, as a grace or blessing, a moment of acknowledgement of dependence, of gratitude, of wonder and of adoration.

How good is the grace of God, to those who hope and trust
in God, who behold has prepared this place for us.
Let us take therefore these gifts which Christ has sent
Let us refresh ourselves and abide here without fear. Amen.

Attentiveness:

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Attentiveness: Bede Life of Cuthbert: Chapter X

This story of Cuthbert praying through the night, standing in the North Sea, and being warmed and comforted afterwards by the sea-otters is one of the most feted stories of Cuthbert. It is often presented as a story of his legendary capacity for assiduous penance!  Which might well be the case.  But I like to interpret it differently:

I would suggest that it is night time.  Cuthbert has spent a long and arduous day doing his work in the monastery.  So much of his prayer time must take place at night.  If you have ever tried to keep vigil in a church overnight, then you will know quite how difficult it is to remain awake and alert.  I believe that Cuthbert stood in the sea simply in order to stay awake!


HOW CUTHBERT PASSED THE NIGHT IN THE SEA, PRAYING; AND WHEN HE WAS COME OUT, TWO ANIMALS OF THE SEA DID HIM REVERENCE; AND HOW THE BROTHER, WHO SAW THOSE THINGS, BEING IN FEAR, WAS ENCOURAGED BY CUTHBERT

WHEN this holy man was thus acquiring renown by his virtues and miracles, Ebbe, a pious woman and handmaid of Christ, was the head of a monastery at a place called the city of Coludi, remarkable both for piety and noble birth, for she was half-sister of King Oswy. She sent messengers to the man of God, entreating him to come and visit her monastery. This loving message from the handmaid of his Lord he could not treat with neglect, but, coming to the place and stopping several days there, he confirmed, by his life and conversation, the way of truth which he taught.

Here also, as elsewhere, he would go forth, when others were asleep, and having spent the night in watchfulness return home at the hour of morning-prayer. Now one night, a brother of the monastery, seeing him go out alone followed him privately to see what he should do. But he when he left the monastery, went down to the sea, which flows beneath, and going into it, until the water reached his neck and arms, spent the night in praising God. When the dawn of day approached, he came out of the water, and, falling on his knees, began to pray again. Whilst he was doing this, two quadrupeds, called otters, came up from the sea, and, lying down before him on the sand, breathed upon his feet, and wiped them with their hair after which, having received his blessing, they returned to their native element.
Cuthbert himself returned home in time to join in the accustomed hymns with the other brethren. The brother, who waited for him on the heights, was so terrified that he could hardly reach home; and early in the morning he came and fell at his feet, asking his pardon, for he did not doubt that Cuthbert was fully acquainted with all that had taken place.

To whom Cuthbert replied, ” What is the matter, my brother ? What have you done? Did you follow me to see what I was about to do? I forgive you for it on one condition,-that you tell it to nobody before my death.” In this he followed the example of our Lord, who, when He showed his glory to his disciples on the mountain, said, ” See that you tell no man, until the Son of man be risen from the dead.” When the brother had assented to this condition, he give him his blessing, and released him from all his trouble. The man concealed this miracle during St. Cuthbert’s life; but, after his death, took care to tell it to as many persons as he was able.

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I am moved by these three images of attentiveness: Cuthbert giving all his attention to God in his prayer, the chill waters of the North Sea keeping him awake;  the otters eagerly attentive to Cuthbert’s needs – I like to think of them playing around him to comfort him even whilst he is standing in the water, and then, alert to his needs, drying and warming him up on the dry land. Finally the attentiveness of the spying monk.  It is difficult to know why he was so alarmed at what he had seen.  Perhaps it was the realisation that he had been an inappropriate witness to moments of great intimacy. 

There is a further example of attentiveness when Cuthbert discerns the discomfort in the voyeur monk – and when the monk discovers this in himself. 

C603 requires attentiveness in its living.  The silence is not a passive silence but an attentive silence.  We try to stay awake and alert to the voice of God.  The guidance to C603 says “The expression solitudinis silentio (the solitude of silence) … emphasises that the hermit’s own silence is not reduced to the absence of voices or noises deriving from physical isolation, and can no longer be an imposed condition of the outside:  it is the attitude fundamental which expresses a radical availability to listen to God.  HLPC 14

This same “radical availability” to God is also required by the Desert dwellers. St Anthony of the Desert offered, “Whoever you may be, always have God before your eyes; whatever you do, do it according to the testimony of the holy Scriptures; in whatever place you live, do not easily leave it.” I find it interesting that this is so closely aligned to the mindfulness teaching of contemporary mental health training. His advice to Abba Pambo’s question of “What must I do?” is even more specific, “Do not trust in your own righteousness, do not worry about the past, but control your tongue and your stomach.”

I do not know if there is a link between the silence which Cuthbert requires of the watching monk, and that which Anthony requires of Abba Pambo. But the trope of “watch your tongue and your stomach” seems an eminently sensible and practicable way to begin to grow in attentiveness!

Penance:

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Penance: Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter VIII

I wrote this piece on penance for the Redemptorist Sunday publications a few years ago. I don’t think I could write anything better today. I particularly like the phrase “turning to face the headwind of truth with courage” in my Redemptorist piece, and the phrase “fruits worthy of repentance” in the Life of St Cuthbert. (I have highlighted them in the text). Both encourage the commitment to reformation, to change, within the context of the reality of our particular circumstance.

HOW CUTHBERT WAS ZEALOUS IN THE MINISTRY OF THE WORD

AFTER the death of Boisil, the priest beloved of God, Cuthbert took upon himself the duties of the office of prior before mentioned; and for many years he was busy with spiritual works, as befitted a holy man; for he not only furnished both precept and example to his brethren of the monastery, but sought to lead the minds of the neighbouring people to the love of heavenly things. Many of them, indeed, profaned the faith which they professed, by unholy deeds; and some of them, in the time of plague, forgetting the sacred mystery of the faith into which they had been initiated, had recourse to idolatrous remedies, as if by charms or amulets, or any other mysteries of the magical art, they were able to avert a stroke inflicted upon them by the Lord. To correct these errors, he often went out from the monastery, sometimes on horseback, but more often on foot, and preached the way of truth to the neighbouring villages, as Boisil, his predecessor, had done before him.

It was at this time customary for the English people to flock together when a clerk or priest entered a village, gladly listening to what was said, and still more gladly following up by their deeds what they could hear and understand. So great was Cuthbert’s skill in teaching, so great his love of driving home what he had begun to teach, so bright the light of his angelic countenance, that none of those present would presume to hide from him the secrets of their heart, but they all made open confession of what they had done, because they thought that these things could certainly never be hidden from him; and they cleansed themselves from the sins they had confessed by “fruits worthy of repentance” as he commanded. He was mostly accustomed to travel to those villages which lay in out of the way places among the mountains, which by their poverty and natural horrors deterred other visitors. Yet even here did his devoted mind find exercise for his powers of teaching, insomuch that he often remained a week, sometimes two or three, nay, even a whole month, without returning home; but dwelling among the mountains, taught the poor people, both by the words of his preaching, and also by his own holy conduct.

Cuthbert preaching

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Canon 603 states, amongst other things, that life in the hermitage is to be a life of “assiduous prayer and penance”.  Assiduous prayer is probably a familiar, if challenging concept for most people, but assiduous penance?  The dictionary definition of penance is self-inflicted punishment.  Assiduous self-punishment sounds frankly terrifying!  And neither healthy nor sensible in the context of a lifelong commitment.

So how to live out “assiduous penance” safely and with integrity?  The life of the hermitage is a simple life – much of the flummery and dissemblance of social living is withdrawn, so that what is most fundamental and foundational to our being human can emerge.  When we shed some of those artifices, it can be a very joyful and freeing experience, but it can also be challenging and uncomfortable.  The willingness to engage with that experience of reality, is penance lived assiduously.

The original Greek for the Latin “repentance” (from which penance is derived) is metanoia, which means turning around.  Penance is the intentional act of turning around – not glancing back fearfully over the shoulder, but turning to face the headwind of truth with courage.  Penance is to try to live without a barrier between ourselves and the truth. 

I think the natural world sets an excellent example of this sort of penance.  The penance in nature is necessarily constant and assiduous – a tree has no contrived defence against the elements, but must bend as the wind blows, flourish with the sun and strain its roots deep for the source of water, responding to drought, sunlight, coldness and heat as they present themselves.  A tree grows in its place, in the conditions in which it finds itself. It abides in the stark reality of its circumstance.

So how might this penance, this “engaging with reality” manifest itself in practice? How might it change our behaviour towards our world and each other? Perhaps the growing awareness of those issues which degrade the balance of the ecosystems of our planet might make a good and simple example to begin with.

There is an increasing awareness that some of the perks of modern living are delusional: the excessive fuel we burn, the unnecessary food we waste, the undegradable plastics we pollute with; all of these are distortions of the ecological balance which underpins our world.  The truth is that living in this way is not sustainable.  There is “fruit worthy of repentance” to be found here. Our penance – our “turning, to face the headwinds of truth” – is to live within the bounds of what is sustainable.  What is a practicable, fruitful, assiduous change that could repent us? What could align us closer to the reality of our created humanity?

Friendship:

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Friendship:  Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: VIII

I think this is my favourite of all the illustrations.  It shows Cuthbert sitting on Boisil’s sick bed, perhaps warming his feet to comfort him.  They are clearly engrossed in conversation, intent on the Gospel they are discussing, Boisil gesticulating with his hands.  It is relaxed and homely and full of attention and affection.


HOW CUTHBERT WAS RECOVERED FROM SICKNESS, AND BOISIL, ON HIS DEATH-BED, FORETOLD TO HIM HIS FUTURE FORTUNES

MEANWHILE, as every thing in this world is frail and fluctuating, like the sea when a storm comes on, the above-named Abbot Eata, with Cuthbert and the other brethren, were expelled from their residence, and the monastery given to others. But our worthy champion of Christ did not by reason of his change of place relax his zeal in carrying on the spiritual conflict which he had undertaken; but he attended, as he had ever done, to the precepts and example of the blessed Boisil. About this time, according to his friend Herefrid the priest, who was formerly abbot of the monastery of Lindisfarne, he was seized with a pestilential disease, of which many inhabitants of Britain were at that time sick. The brethren of the monastery passed the whole night in prayer for his life and health; for they thought it essential to them that so pious a man should be present with them in the flesh. They did this without his knowing it; and when they told him of it in the morning, he exclaimed, ” Then why am I lying here ? I did not think it possible that God should have neglected your prayers: give me my stick and shoes.”

Cuthbert talking to Boisil

Accordingly, he got out of bed, and tried to walk, leaning on his stick; and finding his strength gradually return, he was speedily restored to health: but because the swelling on his thigh, though it died away to all outward appearances, struck into his inwards, he felt a little pain in his inside all his life afterwards; so that, as we find it expressed in the Apostles, ” his strength was perfected in weakness.
”When that servant of the Lord, Boisil, saw that Cuthbert was restored, he said, ” You see, my brother, how you have recovered from your disease, and I assure you it will give you no further trouble, nor are you likely to die at present. I advise you, inasmuch as death is waiting for me, to learn from me all you can whilst I am able to teach you; for I have only seven days longer to enjoy my health of body, or to exercise the powers of my tongue.” Cuthbert, implicitly believing what he heard, asked him what he would advise him to begin to read, so as to be able to finish it in seven days. “John the Evangelist,” said Boisil. “I have a copy containing seven quarto sheets: we can, with God’s help, read one every day, and meditate thereon as far as we are able. ” They did so accordingly, and speedily accomplished the task; for they sought therein only that simple faith which operates by love, and did not trouble themselves with minute and subtle questions. After their seven days’ study was completed, Boisil died of the above-named complaint; and after death entered into the joys of eternal life.
They say that, during these seven days, he foretold to Cuthbert every thing which should happen to him: for, as I have said before, he was a prophet and a man of remarkable piety. And, moreover, he had three years ago foretold to Abbot Eata, that this pestilence would come, and that he himself would die of it; but that the abbot should die of another disease, which the physicians call dysentery; and in this also he was a true prophet, as the event proved. Among others, he told Cuthbert that he should be ordained bishop. When Cuthbert became an anchorite, he would not communicate this prophecy to any one, but with much sorrow assured the brethren who came to visit him, that if he had a humble residence on a rock, where the waves of the ocean shut him out from all the world, he should not even then consider himself safe from its snares, but should be afraid that on some occasion or other he might fall victim to the love of riches.

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The Church recognises the life hermits or anchorites, in which Christ’s faithful withdraw further from the world … through the silence of solitude … . Canon 603

There are not many opportunities to make new friends when you are a hermit. When they do occur they are wonderfully surprising – a gift of God’s bounty!  Which makes the friendships I already value, extra precious. Although I am rarely found perched on the end of a friend’s bed, there is nonetheless a peculiar intensity to friendships that exist almost exclusively outside of the run-of-the-mill of daily life.  We seldom do the washing up together!  But because our meetings  are infrequent, and pointedly intentional, there is some urgency to the time we spend together – very little preamble or small talk, as our intention is simply to be with each other, to share “where we are at”.  Through words, or through shared silence.

If a particular friendship also exists within a shared spirituality, then that is often where we spend our time and energy.  In another forum it might be described as spiritual accompaniment.  In friendship it is simply our expressing our love and care and respect for each other, and our wonder at the life of the Spirit breathing through the other. 

Most consecrated persons (not just hermits) will have formal experience of spiritual accompaniment as a required part of their discernment and formation programme, and quite possibly ongoing into their consecrated life.  A spiritual accompanier (they used to be called spiritual directors) can provide a platform to enable you to reflect on your ideas, a mirror to see yourself more clearly, a whiteboard for your doubts and questions, the challenge of a different perspective, a theatre where you can stand back and observe the play-out of your work.   Of course there are many professionals who offer this sort of accompanying service in a secular arena, but in the church-world, you might reasonably expect a  “spiritual” accompanier to particularly invite you to explore your relationship with God, and to make this the prism through which you view every other aspect of your life.

My friendship group – small as it is – allows – invites – encourages me to do all of the above, albeit informally.  The wisdom of familiarity, the ease of our confidence in each other, and of course the affection of our love.  An anchor point to keep me rooted in my community, to enable me to straiten my course, to dwell briefly and joyfully in our shared moments of spiritual intimacy. To listen together to the Spirit. I am so grateful.

Which isn’t about always agreeing!  We hear so very many different tones of the Spirit’s song in our sharing, and learn to burrow and worry our way through them all, not always to any sort of resolution! I love this little story from the Desert dwellers.  Arsensius was generally considered a stickler for a rigorous way of life, Moses was perhaps a little more approachable.  Yet these two were able to live alongside each other in fraternity and friendship – It is such an endearing image of the two boats floating past each other, acknowledging maybe with a nod, or a raised eyebrow or a twitch of the oar.  The best of friends.

“It was said that a brother came to see Abba Arsenius at Scetis. When he came to the church, he asked the clergy if he could visit Abba Arsenius. They said to him, ‘Brother, have a little refreshment and then go and see him.’ ‘I shall not eat anything,’ he replied, ‘until I have met him.’ So, because Arsenius’ cell was far away, they sent a brother with him. Having knocked on the door, they entered, greeted the elder and sat down without saying anything. Then the brother from the church said, ‘I will leave you. Pray for me.’ Now the visiting brother, not feeling at ease with the elder, said, ‘I will come with you,’ and they went away together.

Then the visitor asked, ‘Take me to Abba Moses, who used to be a robber.’ When they arrived the Abba welcomed them joyfully and then took leave of them with delight. The brother who had brought the other one said to his companion, ‘See, I have taken you to the foreigner and to the Egyptian, which of the two do you prefer?’ ‘As for me,’ he replied, ‘I prefer the Egyptian.’ Now a Father who heard this prayed to God saying, ‘Lord, explain this matter to me: for Thy name’s sake the one flees from men, and the other, for Thy name’s sake, receives them with open arms.’ Then two large boats were shown to him on a river and he saw Abba Arsenius and the Spirit of God sailing in the one, in perfect peace; and in the other was Abba Moses with the angels of God, and they were all eating honey cakes. (Abba Arsenius 38)

You see, I like it so much I have pasted it again!

Hospitality:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter VII

Cuthbert is in his prime by now.  He is a hard worker and taking on responsibilities in the monastery. The community is invited to lay down the foundations for a new Abbey in Ripon, and Cuthbert joins the working party.  He was known to be amiable and pleasant with people, and so he was made guest-master at the new monastery.

HOW HE ENTERTAINED AN ANGEL, AND WHILST MINISTERING TO HIM EARTHLY BREAD, WAS THOUGHT WORTHY TO BE REWARDED WITH BREAD FROM HEAVEN

SOME years after, it pleased King Alfred, for the redemption of his soul, to grant to Abbot Eata a certain tract of country called Inrhipum, in which to build a monastery. The abbot, in consequence of this grant, erected the intended building, and placed therein certain of his brother-monks, among whom was Cuthbert, and appointed for them the same rules and discipline which were observed at Melrose. It chanced that Cuthbert was appointed to the office of receiving strangers, and he is said to have entertained an angel of the Lord who came to make trial of his piety. For, as he went very early in the morning, from the interior of the monastery into the strangers’ cell, he found there seated a young person, whom he considered to be a man, and entertained as such. He gave him water to wash his hands; he washed his feet himself, wiped them, and humbly dried them in his bosom; after which he entreated him to remain till the third hour of the day and take some breakfast, lest, if he should go on his journey fasting, he might suffer from hunger and the cold of winter. For he took him to be a man, and thought that a long journey by night and a severe fall of snow had caused him to turn in thither in the morning to rest himself. The other replied, that he could not tarry, for the home to which he was hastening lay at some distance.

Cuthbert washes an angel’s feet.

After much entreaty, Cuthbert adjured him in God’s name to stop; and as the third hour was now come, prayer over, and it was time to breakfast, he placed before him a table with some food, and said, ” I beseech thee, brother, eat and refresh thyself, whilst I go and fetch some hot bread, which must now, I think, be just baked. ” When he returned, the young man, whom he had left eating, was gone, and he could see no traces of his footsteps, though there had been a fresh fall of snow, which would have exhibited marks of a person walking upon it, and shown which way he went. The man of God was astonished, and revolving the circumstances in his mind, put back the table in the dining-room. Whilst doing so, he perceived a most surprising odour and sweetness; and looking round to see from what it might proceed, he saw three white loaves placed there, of unusual whiteness and excellence. Trembling at the sight, he said within himself, ” I perceive that it was an angel of the Lord whom I entertained, and that he came to feed us, not to be fed himself. Behold, he hath brought such loaves as this earth never produced; they surpass the lily in whiteness, the rose in odour, and honey in taste. They are, therefore, not produced from this earth, but are sent from paradise. No wonder that he rejected my offer of earthly food, when he enjoys such bread as this in heaven.”

The man of God was stimulated by this powerful miracle to be more zealous still in performing works of piety; and with his deeds did increase upon him also the grace of God. From that time he often saw and conversed with angels, and when hungry was fed with unwonted food furnished direct from God.He was affable and pleasant in his character; and when he was relating to the fathers the acts of their predecessors, as an incentive to piety, he would introduce also, in the meekest way, the spiritual benefits which the love of God had conferred upon himself. And this he took care to do in a covert manner, as if it had happened to another person. His hearers, however, perceived that he was speaking of himself, after the pattern of that master who at one time unfolds his own merits without disguise, and at another time says, under the guise of another, ” I knew a man in Christ fourteen years ago, who was carried up into the third heaven.”

The miraculous loaves from paradise


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The spirituality of Cuthbert and his brethren was derived from three influences.  The Angles and Celts, the Romans, and the Desert Fathers and Mothers.  These latter were people who left the comfort and leisure of the cities to go out and meet God in the desert, both pre and post the life of Jesus.  With the adoption of Christianity by the Romans in the era of Constantine’s reign (306-337), the persecution of Christians was largely ended.  So, somewhat to substitute for the travails of martyrdom, there grew to be a greater desire and excitement for an encounter with God in the desert.  As the numbers mounted, small groups of hermitages or Lauras were formed and the hermits began to teach one another.  Many of their sayings were written down in various forms, and were eventually pulled together into a collection we now call the Apothegmata (or Sayings).  The version I am using is a compilation and translation by Benedicta Ward (BW in the references).  It is published by Penguin Classics, and is grouped according to topics, and NOT the alphabetic version with which she is also involved.  The page numbers should enable you to follow if you are interested.

For the Desert Fathers and Mothers (and indeed, any desert dwellers) hospitality was an unwritten law of the desert.  With the arid desert and the life/death balance of desert-living often on the edge, a request for life-saving water or shelter was never to be refused.   

“A brother came to a hermit and as he was taking his leave  he said, ‘Forgive me Abba for preventing you from keeping your rule@.   The hermit answered, ‘My rule is to welcome you with hospitality, and to send you on your way in peace’.  BW p136

The situation for Cuthbert was not much different.  It is clear from the stories of his travels that he often stopped off and relied on strangers’ hospitality for food and a bed.  And when travellers arrived at the monastery, in his role as guest-master, he was expecting to invite them in and see to their wellbeing before sending them on their way again. 

It is worth noting that both of these forms of hospitality were directed towards meeting the needs of the travellers, and not necessarily their desires.  “Guests” were seldom invited to linger for long, neither in the desert, nor in the monastery.  Indeed there are many examples in the Apothegmata of the Desert dwellers avoiding or even turning away visitors who have arrived out of curiosity or a sort of fandom. 

Once a provincial judge heard of Moses and went to Scetis to see him.  They told Moses that he was on his way, and he got up and fled towards a marsh.  The judge and his entourage met him, and asked him, ‘Tell me, old man, where is the cell of Moses?’  He said, ‘What do you want to see him for?  He’s a fool and a heretic.’    The judge came to the church, and said to the clergy, ‘I have heard about Moses and I came to see him.  But I met an old man on the way to Egypt, and I asked him where the cell of Moses was and he said, ‘Why are you looking for him?  He is a fool and a heretic.”’  The clergy were distressed and said, ‘What sort of person was your old man who told you this about the holy man?’  He said, ‘He was an old man, tall and black, wearing the oldest possible clothes.’  The clergy said, ‘That was Moses.  He said that about himself because he didn’t want you to see him.’  The judge went away very impressed.

The contemporary hermit faces the same conundrum:  how to offer a (life-supporting?) hand to those who need it, without compromising the solitude and silence of the hermitage. Perhaps the hunger and thirst which todays’ travellers arrive with are as much for rest, peace, a meaningful sense of God, as for the physical need for food, water and shelter.

Evenso, this ancient and longstanding principle of a hospitality of necessity rather than desire seems a good guideline.  As part of my C603 Rule of Life, I promise that I will “live simply, in solitude and silence, staying and returning there insofar as duties permit”.  So duties such as caring for elderly parents, celebrating a family wedding, earning a suitable living, Sunday Mass – and returning with haste to my “cell” (as the Apothegmata would name it) seems to give a good balance. 

And what of the strangers who ask for prayers, or counsel, or “a Word” (ref also Apothegmata).  I often fall back on the words of Raphael Vernay – a Benedictine Hermit ”The hermit is simply a pioneer in the way of the desert which the whole of humanity must follow of necessity one day, each one according to their own measure and desire. This eremitical vocation, at least embryonically, is to be found in every Christian vocation. It is necessary that the Church and society do something so that this may be realizable,  so that each may at least touch it, be it only with the tip of their little finger”. Benedictine Raphael  Vernay: On the Desert Place of the Inner Sanctuary. 1974

Opening the window of the hermitage through blogs like this, or the work other hermits eg. Sr Laurel O’Neil on C603, or Sr Wendy Becket on Art appreciation (RIP 2018), or Sr Catherine Wybourne on using technology as an evangelical tool (RIP 2022), or any other hermit on their particular speciality, seems a good and appropriate and measured way of enabling each person to touch hermitage, “be it only with the tip of their little finger”.   We hope and pray for you that these glimpses through a barely open window might offer succour and support in times of need.  God is with you.

Discernment:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Discernment: Bede’s Life of St Cuthbert:  Chapter VI

This marks the beginning of a deep friendship between Boisil and Cuthbert.  The friendship of hermits is not often explored, and we shall dig a bit deeper in a later piece.

In Bede’s account, the initial reference to Cuthbert is again scriptural “Behold the servant of the Lord”.  In echoing the words of Jesus to Nathanael (“an Israelite in who there is no guile”  (John 1:47)), Boisil is assuming the persona of Jesus (as prior of the monastery), and foresees in spirit “how great the man whom he saw was going to be in his manner of life”.  Bede is guiding us again towards Cuthbert (and Boisil) as exemplars of Gospel virtue. 

HOW, AS HE WAS COMING TO A MONASTERY, BOISIL, A HOLY MAN, BORE TESTIMONY TO HIM BY PROPHESYING IN SPIRIT

MEANWHILE this reverend servant of God, abandoning worldly things, hastens to submit to monastic discipline, having been excited by his heavenly vision to covet the joys of everlasting happiness, and invited by the food with which God had supplied him to encounter hunger and thirst in his service. He knew that the Church of Lindisfarne contained many holy men, by whose teaching and example he might be instructed, but he was moved by the great reputation of Boisil, a monk and priest of surpassing merit, to choose for himself an abode in the abbey of Melrose. And it happened by chance, that when he was arrived there, and had leaped from his horse, that he might enter the church to pray, he gave his horse and travelling spear to a servant, for he had not yet resigned the dress and habits of a layman.

Boisil was standing before the doors of the monastery, and saw him first. Foreseeing in spirit what an illustrious man the stranger would become, he made this single remark to the bystanders: ” Behold a servant of the Lord ! ” herein imitating Him who said of Nathaniel, when he approached Him, ” Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile ! ” I was told this by that veteran priest and servant of God, the pious Sigfrid, for he was standing by when Boisil said these words, and was at that time a youth studying the first rudiments of the monastic life in that same monastery, but now he is a man, perfect in the Lord, living in our monastery of Yarrow, and amid the last sighs of his fainting body thirsting for a happy entrance into another life. Boisil, without saying more, kindly received Cuthbert as he approached; and when he had heard the cause of his coming, namely, that he preferred the monastery to the world, he kept him near himself, for he was the prior of that same monastery.

Cuthbert embraced by Boisil at Melrose Abbey.

After a few days, when Eata, who was at that time priest and abbot of the monastery, but afterwards bishop of Lindisfarne, was come, Boisil told him about Cuthbert, how that he was a young man of a promising disposition, and obtained permission that he should receive the tonsure, and be enrolled among the brethren. When he had thus entered the monastery, he conformed himself to the rules of the place with the same zeal as the others, and indeed, sought to surpass them by observing stricter discipline; and in reading, working, watching, and praying, he fairly outdid them all. Like the mighty Samson of old, he carefully abstained from every drink which could intoxicate; but was not able to abstain equally from food, lest his body might be thereby rendered less able to work: for he was of a robust frame arid of unimpaired strength, and fit for any labour which he might be disposed to take in hand.

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Perhaps what is most useful about this chapter is the process of discernment which it unfolds.  We have seen Cuthbert growing up, experiencing something of a conversion at quite a young age, and since that time as Bede records, “wholly given to the Lord”.  As he reached young adulthood, Cuthbert begins to seek out the possibility of monastic life.  The monastery of Lindesfarne was renowned for its learning and holiness, but Cuthbert chooses instead the much humbler abbey of Melrose, “learning beforehand of the fame of the sublime virtues of the monk and priest Boisil”. 

So Cuthbert first discerns his vocation, and then researches the most suitable place for himself to commit to it.  But it is not his decision to make.

When he arrives, Boisil greets him warmly – that must have felt both affirming and unnerving to a young man who, with both horse and spear,  “had not yet put off his secular habit”.  To reinforce the sense of a communal witness to Cuthbert’s arrival and welcome, Bede invokes the name of a witness: Sigfrith, who is still living in the Jarrow monastery with Bede.  A living eyewitness!

But even Boisil’s (and implicitly Sigfrith’s) approval is not sufficient. Eata (Abbot of Lindesfarne) next arrives, and examines Cuthbert  and considering him a suitable candidate, admits him to receive the tonsure, the habit, and to join the novitiate.  The discernment of Cuthbert’s vocation is an active, engaging thing.  Even when Cuthbert later wishes to live in greater solitude, he asks permission from the community, and his eventual removal further out to the Farne islands is clearly negotiated with his brothers and his superiors. In later life when he is called on by the discernment of the brothers to become their new Bishop of Lindesfarne, he responds willingly, if reluctantly.

Every vocation to the Consecrated Life is a process of ongoing discernment, both of the candidate/incumbent, and of their community.  It is never, ultimately, an individual project.  Canon 603 nominates the local diocese as the “community” with which the hermit is obligated to engage.  The hermit promises obedience to God, but into the hands of the local bishop.  The hermit must create and write the Rule of Life, but the bishop must approve it.

A couple of quotes for you: there is a commentary to Canon 603 which was made available in 2022 by the Congregation (now dicastery) for Institutes of Consecrated life and Societies of Apostolic Life. You can link to it here:  ponam_in_deserto_IFSB.pdf   (odd translation – I think it is Google translated!) The The document title “Ponam in Deserto” (henceforward PiD) is translated into “The hermit life form in the particular Church”, and explores deeper some of the tradition and spirituality which underlies Canon 603 and offers guidance as to how it might best be implemented in a diocese.

On discernment it states: “Ecclesial recognition implies acceptance into the particular Church, through confirmation, direction and accompaniment by the diocesan bishop. It is a delicate process of discernment which postulates for its full realisation the ecclesial exercise of synodality, in which faithful and pastors, together, choose the steps of communion to be accomplished in the building up of the Kingdom of God, so that each may know the hope of their own vocation. The link with the pastor of the local Church takes on particular canonical value in the case of the public profession of the evangelical counsels.” PiD 12

The hermit does not discern alone. It is a personal and a Church project, not an individual one!

The Church recognises the lives of hermits … by the public profession in the hands of the diocesan bishop [of] the three evangelical counsels … and a proper program of living under the bishop’s direction. Canon 603





Providence:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter V

I love this chapter, with its reference to the Old Testament prophet and hermit – Elias. It celebrates the ancient tradition and heritage of hermitage and the grace of God’s providence throughout history- a way of living and serving and revealing God that has been a part of the story of Israel from the earliest stories and writings. I like to think of Cuthbert, staff in hand, musing on the same stories about Elijah as I find in my own bible. And perhaps resonating with them in the same way.

HOW, ON HIS WAY, HE WAS SUPPLIED WITH FOOD BY GOD

AND when he now began with care to meditate on his intended entrance to a more rigid course of life, God ‘s grace was revealed to him, whereby his mind was strengthened in its purpose, and it was shown to him by the clearest evidence, that to those who seek the kingdom of God and his righteousness, the bounty of the Divine promise will grant all other things also, which are necessary for their bodily support. For on a certain day, as he was journeying alone, he turned aside at the fourth hour into a village which lay at some distance, and to which he found his way. Here he entered the house of a pious mother of a family, in order to rest himself a little, and to procure food for his horse rather than for himself, for it was the beginning of winter. The woman received him kindly, and begged him to allow her to get him some dinner, that he might refresh himself. The man of God refused, saying, ” I cannot yet eat, for it is a fast-day.” It was the sixth day of the week, on which many of the faithful, out of reverence to the Lord’s passion, are accustomed to extend their fasting even to the ninth hour.

A horse discovers food for the saint

The woman, from a motive of hospitality, persisted in her request. “Behold,” said she, “on the way you are going there is no village, nor house; you have a long journey before you, and cannot get through it before sunset. Let me entreat you, therefore, to take some food before you go, or else you will be obliged to fast all the day, and perhaps even till to-morrow.” But though the woman pressed him much, his love of religion prevailed, and he fasted the whole day until the evening. When the evening drew near, and he perceived that he could not finish his intended journey the same day, and that there was no house at hand in which he could pass the night, he presently fell upon some shepherds’ huts, which, having been slightly constructed in the summer, were now deserted and ruinous. Into one of these he entered, and having tied his horse to the wall, placed before him a handful of hay, which the wind had forced from the roof. He then turned his thoughts to prayer, but suddenly, as he was singing a psalm, he saw his horse lift up his head and pull out some straw from the roof, and among the straw there fell down a linen cloth folded up, with something in it. When he had ended his prayers, wishing to see what this was, he came and opened the cloth, and found in it half of a loaf of bread, still hot, and some meat, enough of both to serve him for a single meal. In gratitude for the Divine goodness, he exclaimed, “Thanks be to God, who of his bounty hath deigned to provide a meal for me when I was hungry, as well as a supper for my beast.” He therefore divided the piece of bread into two parts, of which he gave one to his horse and kept the other for himself; and from that day forward he was more ready than before to fast, because he now felt convinced that the food had been provided for him in the desert by the gift of Him who formerly fed the prophet Elias for so long a time by means of ravens, when there was no man to minister unto him, whose eyes are upon those that fear Him, and upon those who trust in his mercy, that He may save their souls from death, and may feed them when they are hungry. I learnt these particulars from a religious man of our monastery of Weremouth, a priest of the name of Ingwald, who now, by reason of his extreme old age, is turning his attention, in purity of heart, to spiritual things rather than to earthly and carnal affections, and who said that the authority on which his relation rested was no less than that of Cuthbert himself.

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Canon 603 does not seem to say much about the practicalities of living an eremitical life. Reliance on Providence as per Cuthbert’s experience might not impress a bishop looking for verifiable evidence of a commitment to a “stable form of living” (Canon 573 on Consecrated life). Waiting for a raven to deliver bread, or relying on a horse’s ingenuity to provide the next meal, might be considered a little too haphazard for the dicastery!

But much of the wisdom of c603 lies exactly in this sense of the providential care of God. The hermit, as part of their discernment process with the diocese, must form for themselves a “Rule of Life”. This will be individual, and will be the framework for their mode of living. Each rule is very different!

Each candidate must reflect on their own particular circumstances and present a plan – both practical and spiritual – which will inspire and guide their living from that place of actualisation. Even in these early days of discernment, there is an element of the providential – the candidate can only begin to explore and work things out from the circumstances in which they find themselves now. The “hidden lunch” of a solitary work-opportunity, or accommodation, or insightful spiritual guidance are all greetings of God’s providence which will make our journey easier. A hermit often needs to abandon ideas of romantic isolation, and to be prepared to recognise opportunities to realise their vocation upon a less exalted terrain. An ambition to spend their days weaving (and unweaving!) baskets, in silent and psalmic prayer might well limit their vision of other more realistic prospects. God’s providence is certainly effective, but the hermit (as was Cuthbert) must be prepared to receive it, surprising and unexpected though it might be when it appears.

And the journey doesn’t end at admittance to the hermitage. Throughout our incumbency we will be receiving grace upon grace, of gifts and opportunities to find new depths of understanding, new expressions of our life. Most recently I was (accidentally almost!) invited to join with a small group of c603 hermits to study together some of the most recent literature on the hermit life. Of course, conversation does not always come readily, but as we explore and uncover and are inspired by our reading and discussion, new vistas open up. We see another way forward. We have been fed on the journey. An unexpected grace!

This capacity in Canon 603 to respond to the particular circumstances of the aspiring hermit by requiring them to discern a personal Rule of Life, is unusual in the process of petitioning a commitment to the Consecrated Life. Of course the Rules of most monastic and apostolic orders allow for adaptation to the needs of the individual as they arise, but this invitation to, and requirement of the work which will give a framework for life – quite different to that discerned by any other hermit – is quite unique in its individuation. It embeds the providential journey which has led the candidate to this point of petitioning, into their way of being in the hermitage. That it was written into the New Code of Canon Law in 1983 was indeed a courageous move on the part of the Roman Church. And that courage imposes a strict responsibility on those discerning the vocation (both candidate and diocesan representative) to ensure that the integrity of the Canon in its wholeness, is safeguarded, whilst welcoming the personal freedom of particular ways of living it.

A hermit is recognised … as one who … observes a proper program of living under the direction of the bishop. from Canon 603

This text is part of the Internet Medieval Source Book. The Sourcebook is a collection of public domain and copy-permitted texts related to medieval and Byzantine history. Unless otherwise indicated the specific electronic form of the document is copyright. Permission is granted for electronic copying, distribution in print form for educational purposes and personal use. If you do reduplicate the document, indicate the source. No permission is granted for commercial use. © Paul Halsall June 1997 halsall@murray.fordham.edu

Prayer:

Posted on by Hm Rachel

Bede’s Life of Cuthbert: Chapter III

We are starting our exploration of Cuthbert’s life with chapter 3 which is the first event depicted in the images of the Yates Thompson collection. Cuthbert’s earlier life is described in some detail by Bede, but has not been illustrated by the scribes. There are stories of an ebullient youthful Cuthbert “because he was agile by nature and quick-witted, he very often used to prevail over his rivals in play, so that sometimes, when the rest were tired, he, being still untired, would triumphantly look round to see whether any of them were willing to contend with him again”. But around the age of eight, he was surprised to be addressed as “bishop” by a very young child, and this prophetic challenge seems to have shifted his direction into a more prayerful and thoughtful lifestyle. The events of Chapter 3 take place during this transitional period of his life. As a teenager he is already regarded to be a person of prayer. Bede writes:

HOW CUTHBERT CHANGED THE WINDS BY PRAYER, AND BROUGHT THE SCATTERED SHIPS SAFE TO LAND

FROM this time the lad becoming devoted to the Lord, as he afterwards assured his friends, often prayed to God amid dangers that surrounded him, and was defended by angelic assistance; nay, even in behalf of others who were in any danger, his benevolent piety sent forth prayers to God, and he was heard by Him who listens to the cry of the poor, and the men were rescued out of all their tribulations. There is, moreover, a monastery lying towards the south, not far from the mouth of the river Tyne, at that time consisting of monks, but now changed, like all other human things, by time, and inhabited by a noble company of virgins, dedicated to Christ. Now, as these pious servants of God were gone to bring from a distance in ships, up the above-named river, some timber for the use of the monastery, and had already come opposite the place where they were to bring the ships to land, behold a violent wind, rising from the west, carried away their ships, and scattered them to a distance from the river’s mouth.

Two monks praying at the monastery of Tynemouth interceding with God on behalf of those whom they perceived to be even now in imminent risk of death..

The brethren, seeing this from the monastery, launched some boats into the river, and tried to succour those who were on board the vessels, but were unable, because the force of the tide and violence of the winds overcame them. In despair therefore of human aid, they had recourse to God, and issuing forth from the monastery, they gathered themselves together on a point of rock, near which the vessels were tossing in the sea: here they bent their knees, and supplicated the Lord for those whom they saw under such imminent danger of destruction. But the Divine will was in no haste to grant these vows, however earnest; and this was, without a doubt, in order that it might be seen what effect was in Cuthbert’s prayers. For there was a large multitude of people standing on the other bank of the river and Cuthbert also was among them. Whilst the monks were looking on in sorrow, seeing the vessels, five in number, hurried rapidly out to sea, so that they looked like five sea-birds on the waves, the multitude began to deride their manner of life, as if they had deserved to suffer this loss, by abandoning the usual modes of life, and framing for themselves new rules by which to guide their conduct.

Cuthbert restrained the insults of the blasphemers, saying, “What are you doing, my brethren, in thus reviling those whom you see hurried to destruction ? Would it not be better and more humane to entreat the Lord in their behalf, than thus to take delight in their misfortunes? ” But the rustics, turning on him with angry minds and angry mouths, exclaimed, ” Nobody shall pray for them: may God spare none of them ! for they have taken away from men the ancient rites and customs, and how the new ones are to be attended to, nobody knows. ” At this reply, Cuthbert fell on his knees to pray, and bent his head towards the earth; immediately the power of the winds was checked, the vessels, with their conductors rejoicing, were cast upon the land near the monastery, at the place intended. The rustics blushing for their infidelity, both on the spot extolled the faith of Cuthbert as it deserved, and never afterwards ceased to extol it: so that one of the most worthy brothers of our monastery, from whose mouth I received this narrative, said that he had often, in company with many others, heard it related by one of those who were present, a man of the most rustic simplicity, and altogether incapable of telling an untruth.

Cuthbert praying on the banks of the River Tyne:

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I am especially charmed by Bede’s passing comment on the “monastery lying towards the south, not far from the mouth of the river Tyne, at that time consisting of monks, but now changed, like all other human things, by time, and inhabited by a noble company of virgins, dedicated to Christ.”  The women have taken over the monastery!  – I can sense his rueful resignation.  😉

But what is the point of this story? prayer?
Canon 603 is adamant that the prayer of the hermit be “assiduous”: [hermits] withdraw further from the world and devote their lives to the praise of God and the salvation of the world through … assiduous prayer”. What does this mean in practice? 

Bede uses the references of his story about St Cuthbert to emphasise the particular power of Cuthbert’s prayer.  He presents it as a capacity to engage with the elements – the wind, the rain, the stormy sea – in the same way as Jesus did on the Lake of Galilee.  We are to understand Cuthbert as a conduit of the charisms of the Christ figure who can control all of creation and thus rescue men “out of all their tribulations” through his prayer.

The prayers of the other monks – well-intentioned and “earnest” as they are – “they bent their knees, and supplicated the Lord for those whom they saw under such imminent danger of destruction” appear to fail in their intercession. Then Cuthbert kneels down and prays, “bending his head to the ground , and immediately the violent wind turned about and bore the rafts safe and sound to land, amid the rejoicings of those who were guiding them.” How are we to discern this difference in apparent outcome? What was it that made Cuthbert’s prayer effective, and those of the monks not-so-much? Even Bede seems confused – he offers the solution that the “Divine will” waited for Cuthbert’s prayer in order to advertise Cuthbert’s holiness and his favour with God; to promote him as a guide and teacher.

But this is such a usual happening – the prayers of the masses – for peace, for health, for security, are seldom answered in the way that Cuthbert seems able to invoke. We don’t seem to have the capacity to invoke the wind and the rain and to change the weather forecast at our convenience! How are we to resolve this discrepancy? How are we challenged, or discouraged, or defeated by this repeated experience? How do we deal with the realistic expectation that we may not be miracle-workers?

At the beginning of my hermitage, when I was a bit overwhelmed by it all, I asked my spiritual director what was expected of me when the “please pray for …” requests started coming in.  From the experience of many years in religious life, his response was:  “God hears the prayer already, as it is asked for.  The work of the prayer is done – in the asking – by the person who is doing the asking. That is the prayer. They have turned to God, The words have been spoken. God has heard. 

Your job then is to hold the silence that follows”

So how to “hold the silence?
One of the things that I have begun to learn over 23 years of hermitting has been “prayerful-living”.  I think it might have echoes in the methods of mindfulness which are so popular nowadays as a respite from the media fuzz.  My tendency to need to get-things-done can lead to a stressful chaos of half-finished tasks, my mind always on the next one.  My version of prayerful-living uses a simple silent mantra: this is what we are doing to keep me centred in the moment; to keep me fully involved in whatever task – prayer, housework, gardening, DIY – I might be engaged in.  this is what we are doing. This is a silent event; it is a gasp of acknowledgement. No matter how busy or active I might be in my work, I try to embrace the stillness of each moment. This is what we are doing

Hermitage is fundamentally a life of prayer.  And I do indeed spend some time each day in focussed silence and stillness and listening.  Sitting intentionally in God’s presence. These are the essential, but generally least remarkable times of my day!  The directness of God’s gaze can be uncomfortable, challenging, or occasionally reassuring.  And staying in that place when there is stuff to face, or other pressing matters to be getting on with, can be difficult: this is what we are doing. We stay a little longer.

But most of my silence-with-God goes on with God as a companion at my side, opposite me at the work table, enjoying the sunshine with me; the cosiness of a warm autumnal evening, walking through the woodlands near my bungalow, the juxtaposition of a book and a mug on a table. This is what we are doing. That refuge of the moment might be a place of safety where I receive bad news, or it might be a place of sadness, or anxiety, or tiredness, or pain: “this” –  this distress and discomfort and sorrow – this unbearable thing:  this  is what we are doing. 

Who is “we”? 

This is what we are doing. The “we” refers to God-and-me (or you!): the silence-of-us. But within that silent space are all the prayers we are holding; each and every person and the prayers already offered, and their unspoken prayers known only to God. They are fully present in that “we”, in each silent moment of hermitage.

Perhaps we can trust that the prayers of the Tynemouth monks were heard by God. Perhaps we can trust that those prayers opened a space in the crowd for Cuthbert to step forward and bend down and put his face to the ground to hold silence with God. Perhaps the wind and the rain put their faces to the ground and were silent with him.

Perhaps the silent space created by our prayers gives others a place where miracles can happen?

[hermits] withdraw further from the world and devote their lives to the praise of God and the salvation of the world through … assiduous prayer”. Canon 603

This text is part of the Internet Medieval Source Book. The Sourcebook is a collection of public domain and copy-permitted texts related to medieval and Byzantine history. Unless otherwise indicated the specific electronic form of the document is copyright. Permission is granted for electronic copying, distribution in print form for educational purposes and personal use. If you do reduplicate the document, indicate the source. No permission is granted for commercial use. © Paul Halsall June 1997 halsall@murray.fordham.edu