The Catholic Hermit's Path Forks

Having tripped and stumbled recently, the Catholic hermit found footing, came upon a small path forking off, and has stepped forward. "Let us walk to the place of His dwelling; let us go to kneel at his footstool" [Ps. 132].

The paths on the holy mountain vary according to individual needs and purposes; the Lord knows. He is there, at the place of His rest. The Catholic hermit seeks to rest in Him, also, in His love, bequeathed with His peace. All is well.

During the night, there were dreams of not having lectored well; in fact, before the Bishop and many, the lectoring was from this Bible or that, going about trying to find which one, find the spot, and the Bishop himself and another, speaking the readings. Today the hermit will put away some books lying about, tantalizing though they be, and select a simple seven from which to read and ponder. Seven still seems many, but these include a full Bible, a NT Bible, a small devotional by a Carthusian, one of St. Silouan's teachings, the Breviary, a Carthusian's writing on interior life, and a saint biography. Even at night my heart counsels me; the other books go to the shelf.

The Catholic hermit diverges from the nearly year-long path of The Complete Hermit. There has been progress. Also last night and continuing this morning, the hermit (who is learning to be nothing, and thus will refer to the nagging self as "nothing" or "n") practiced embracing with love the neighborhood, the bloggerhood, the internet world and the whole world--past, present, and future. The internet world is perhaps the most difficult to embrace with love due to the vastness of sins there in space without tangible bounds. There floats crimes against children; anger and envy and misunderstandings abound; dissenters and murderers of the unborn, scammers and identity theives do their deeds. And those of us with lesser evils to outer sight exist, as well; and all of us are one in God's desire that we kneel at His footstool.

There is a peace and beauty in practicing the embrace of love for all. The Holy Father looks out at "n" this morning, and says his usual "be good, be holy." N looks out upon the lovely iced-over Lake Immaculata, from within the comfort of Agnus Dei Hermitage: a place. It, too, is nesting with "n" in the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Does Pope Benedict XVI have the luxury to look out at simple nature, or is he busy with appointments, Church issues and problems, encyclicals and strayed sheep? The Catholic hermit (n) must look at the dawning sunrise for him. And for the Bishop, Rector and all who have sacrificed for good, the luxury of eliminating distractions. Even the ones in the cells at the city jail must be taken into consideration: they cannot look out upon Lake Immaculata. They have sacrificed to evil, and have allowed the parasites of Satan (for he is legion) to distract their God-created good souls. All this can change. The Pope can have a blessed moment of holy bliss, for he and the Bishops and priests and housewives and working holy men and women may be given signal graces. The hermit must pray for this to happen, in gratitude for their sacrifices: taking on the work of the world and the world of the Church for "n" to have rest.
The ones pocked by parasites--n prays for them, as well: to be in the place of his dwelling. The Staretz was able to bring all souls into his soul, into God's love.

St. Silouan's whole life became prayer: pure prayer and mental stillness. Eventually this n's path will no doubt come to another juncture, and words will need to be dropped for they will become excess hiking equipment. The Staretz said, 'The Lord is glorified in holy temples, while monks and anchorites [hermits] praise God in their hearts. the heart of the anchorite is a temple and his mind an altar, for the Lord loves to dwell in the heart and mind of man.'

Perhaps more on pure prayer will be jotted down on the next blog, or next after.

The Catholic hermit has dropped off baggage no longer necessary. The externals are less important: apparel (as in distinguishing habit), surroundings (although solitude, earthly beauty and nature are a blessing), title or official status in particular vocation (although fine for some). It is even as the Staretz points out, the essence of spiritual quiet lay not in living the life of a hermit or retiring to a desert, but in a constant dwelling in God.

...both the recluse's way o flife and the way of the desert solitary were simply means, never ends in themselves. They might help by diminishing external impressions and influences and keeping man aloof from life's sound and fury, thus favouring pure prayer, but only if such retirement from the world conforms to the will of God and is not merely man's personal choice. A hermit's life, or any other kind of ascetic striving, will be sterile if it is self-willed, because the essential is not that we should arbitrarily perform ascetic feats but that we should be obedient to the will of God.

"...no one mode of ascetic endeavor was per se the highest form of spiritual life. Prayer in a desert, a life of seclusion, the assumption of folly for Christ's sake, the ministry or learned work in the field of theology--any one of these would be the highest for a given person if it corresponded to God's will for him. Even so, when considering this or that kind of spiritual effort, this or that place or manner in which to serve God, the quest for pure prayer remains imperative and the ultimate aim."

This reality leads one to kneeling before the footstool of God. It is the place at the foot of the table where on a white pottery plate sits a nibbled, steamed ear of corn.