Catholic Hermit: St. Paul, the First Hermit

Paul of Thebes, considered the Church's first-known hermit, is a prime example of how Christian, Catholic hermits have hearkened to the Lord's call as well as their accepting and living the eremitic vocation for centuries.  

For every St. Paul the First Hermit or also known as Paul the Anchorite, there are hundreds if not into the thousands of Roman Catholic and Orthodox Catholic hermits over the centuries past and present, who lived and are living the eremitic vocation in the quiet, hidden ways of which the Church now describes in §920, §921 of The Catechism of the Catholic Church.

These holy hermits did not require approval by a Bishop or even a priest, for that matter.  They were not connected with any particular diocese, nor were their profession and avowals made publicly nor were they required to be trained by, approved of, or allowed to be eremites by other more experienced hermits.  

However, often they did look to hermits who had lived the eremitic vocation for years in order to benefit from wisdom and experience of others--much the way we consecrated Catholic hermits today (privately or publicly professed) turn to the writings and lives of these hermits of the past centuries.  We also consider the lives of the Old Testament prophets and such as St. John the Baptist, who were in essence hermits in the way they lived their lives.  

And, we contemporary hermits in the consecrated life of the Church, turn to a wise and holy priest, monk, or learned and holy spiritual advisor--someone who has lived the eremitic life or has in retirement years, perhaps, lived in greater solitude, reflection, and prayer in addition to benefit from lectio divina (reading, absorbing, pondering Scripture and other works of Christian, spiritual illumination and wisdom).

For the most part if not in some cases could be exclusively--as did many of the early desert hermits, male and female--turning to God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit as our guide, teacher, mentor, inspiration, and source of spiritual ascent in ultimate, eventual union.  We learn to pray in the way the Lord taught, and we learn to love in the way God desires us to love, as He loves.  Through the Living Word, we find Truth, Beauty, Goodness; we are taught how it is to follow Christ fully.

Through the appropriate Sacraments of the Church, we consecrated Catholic hermits today proceed in all that will help us transcend ourselves and cleave unto the Trinity; we are subsumed into Christ through His Body and Blood.  In being one in the Body of Christ, we unite with all our fellow Christians in worship as well as in daily living, albeit we hermits are hidden from their recognition and exist in stricter separation from the world in the silence of solitude.  We devote our lives to the praise of God and in prayer for the salvation of the world.

We learn spiritual combat through lived experience and with the help of what the hermits of times past and other spiritual masters, and Scripture, have written and passed down through the ages on spiritual combat and how to avoid the pitfalls and snares of the devil.  We benefit, also, in the battle against forces of evil and our own propensity to sin (mostly, but not all, sins of thought and word since we hermits are not living the active life and have little interactions) by the counsel of our confessors and spiritual directors.

So it is that consecrated Catholic hermits have existed and exist today, without fanfare, and for the good of our vocation to be in anonymity and relative hiddenness.  For any actual name or proven example of hermits who have caused lasting scandal (of course, there will be hermits--and have been even in the earliest days of the desert abbas and ammas--who sin and repent even if might take awhile to recognize the sins), I know of none.  But if anyone could cite an actual example of such a one, there are all the others who, while not perfect, lived their eremitic lives as souls loving Christ and seeking God in the various facets of spiritual life and within the tradition of the hermit path, that of a religious solitary.

For any specific hermit over the centuries who needed or sought approval of someone other--bishop, older, experienced hermit--in order to live the vocation, there are vastly more who did not need or seek that approbation.  They may (and yet today) have sought counsel and guidance from, or received a blessing of an experienced, older hermit or cleric; they may have been blessed in their vocation additionally in a religious ceremony or service (or today might seek approval of their bishop and participate in a Mass as part of that approbation), but there will be always those in history and ongoing who are living their consecrated eremitic vocations without ado but by the call and will of God Himself.

That is the way of St. Paul of Thebes, or St. Paul the First Hermit, or St. Paul the Anchorite, or Anba Bola in Egyptian Arabic (all one and the same man) whose Feast Day is today:  January 15 (in the Roman and Eastern Orthodox Churches, and February 9 in the Oriental Orthodox Church. 

St. Jerome wrote a biography of St. Paul, the First Hermit--partly as he wanted historical truth and fact be known that it is this man, Paul, and not Anthony, who followed after Paul, who is the first Christian hermit known in the Church.

St. Paul, the First Hermit, lived from 226 or 7 until 341.  He was born and reared in Thebes, but he was orphaned at an early age.  To avoid in his youth being persecuted and killed for his Christian faith, Paul went out into the desert to live, anticipating he would return to the world, to Thebes, when the times had calmed and Christians would be more tolerated.  

It is said that the young Paul found a cave to live in, and a palm tree from which to gather palm fronds to make a covering as a type of clothing and also to survive on the fruit of the palm tree. It is said that a raven brought him a piece of bread, daily.  He spent his days and nights in solitude and in devoting himself to God--yes, praise of God and prayer for the world, as we consecrated Catholic hermits of our times are to be devoting our lives!

When Paul would have been able to safely return to civilization and leave his desert hermit cave, he had come to find such joy and purpose in his life of silence of solitude, hidden from the eyes of men, communing with God, that he decided to remain for the rest of his life.  He was able to secure his solitary existence, not having intrusions by others, other than rare occasion--and of that he usually was able to avoid, or to send away the curious or those who had heard of a hermit and sought to find him.

That is, until in his 113th year, Anthony--then a young man who had decided to leave the world and seek God in the solitude of the desert after having settled his young sister in a convent and dispensed of what money and possessions not needed for her care--sought to find this hermit, the man named Paul, he'd heard was hidden out in the desert.

When Anthony did finally locate Paul's cave, he found Paul ill and quite old, nearing death.  As the story unfolds, we learn that Paul sends Anthony off to get a holy cloth or such, that Anthony would bring back for the elderly Paul--with whom Anthony had hoped he could be a companion to Paul and a student of sorts.

Paul had no such intention, recognized that the Lord had sent Anthony to find him as a loving gift so that Paul would not have died totally without human knowledge or burial. When Anthony did return with the sacred cloth, Paul had passed on. It is said that Paul's lifeless body was yet on his knees in prayerful position, arms outstretched.

Anthony went on to find his own hermit cell and lived with God in solitude, praising and praying, and in penitential humility.  He also did not want to have his solitude infiltrated, but of course we know from history that Anthony was not without people, even so, locating him and wanting wise, spiritual counsel, advice, and insights.  Yet, it was not Anthony's position nor did he take upon himself a role of deigning some type of legitimacy or approbation upon others seeking to live the eremitic vocation.  (In two days we celebrate the January 17 feast of St. Anthony of the Desert, so may examine his life further then.)

Let us pray for the intercessions of St. Paul the First Hermit!  May we learn from his life the reality of what it is to live the eremitic vocation in the way in which God desires of us as well as in the ways in which the Church as set forth some parameters and guidances for us consecrated Catholic hermits today.  

God bless His Real Presence in us!  Little children, let us love one another as God loves us each and all!

Hermit Ponders Simplicity

A man stopped by the other morning.  There is a story to this.  I had spoken with him on the phone three times last spring, but he was always very busy, rushed, and not able to meet me, not even to say "hello."  I met one of the monk-priests of his monastery, though, one day at the bank.  He said there are the three of them at the monastery.  The monk priest said this man, the abbot, had gone to another state to lead a retreat.

We quipped about how he seems quite busy for a hermit priest and hermit abbot.  Yes, the monk-priest said he sometimes tells the abbot he needs to go off to another monastery for some quiet!

But the abbot stopped the other morning.  He was driving by and happened to see me outside.  He was quite rushed.  I think that is part of his energy level, perhaps, or his way of life.  He commented on the work I was doing to improve the old house.  He said I was welcome to visit his monastery.  I mentioned, as I must, the little situation during Mass, although it may not occur.  Only God is forever, after all.

He then was on his way to his van and was all the more rushed.  He commented he surely hoped I'd be awake for his homily.  Two priests have said that, now, half-joking, and yet not.  I assured him if I visit, and if the state occurs, I would be very deeply aware at another level.

But he was more rushed and not listening by then.  My words slipped away somewhere between the bustling of his full-length, black, orthodox garb about his legs (so as to not get the fabric caught in the door)--and the slamming car door.  I thanked him for stopping to introduce himself, but I think that, too, may have gone unheard.

I noticed a rather significant sign on his dashboard that he is chaplain to a couple of area groups, and he gave me his "business card", as he called it, with his title (the very reverend abbot so-and-so), and thrust into my hand a colorful brochure of his monastery.  It all happened in a rush, and after he sped off, I realized anew:  first impressions do make an impression.

It wearied me.  What I seek in this phase of life is more simply, God; and to aid the search, I seek aspects of the Nine S' as platforms to help me support the living out of the Gospel rule of life.  I lately have been pondering simplicity.  Yes, it seems to me all of the Nine S' do complement each other like threads interwoven in the warp and woof, creating a softly strong tapestry.

I'm not sure how I'd feel being an abbot of two in a monastery of which land was purchased years ago, following a shift from a previous career.  I'm not sure how it would be to be a hermit priest yet so rushed and busy.  It is nearly four months since my phone call suggesting I meet them, not knowing then how many monks there nor how busy the abbot in travel and the group tours they conduct.  One time I called, he was awaiting a busload to give a tour of their compound.  The next time he was leaving to give a retreat in a major city in another state.  The other time he was busy at his chaplaincy job.  Calling a fourth time was out of the question.  I was worn out by the third.

The brief visit the other morning left me exhausted yet with some humor about how quickly he fled--about as quickly as he appeared on the scene, having rushed down the drive.  I first noticed his head--the long, yellow-white hair and immense white beard.  I thought a drifter had come, or some recluse neighbor to complain about the work I am attempting here.  Then I noticed the full-length, heavy, black habit.  By then he was already introducing himself.

All is a blur of rapid-fire exchange.  But that does not mean it was hectic or a blur for him.  We are on different paces, different breath traces, different spaces and places.

Sometimes I can grasp aspects of simplicity when I encounter what seem not to be aspects of simplicity.  I am seeking God by way of simplicity and in the rest of the Nine S' that are interwoven:  Silence, Solitude, Slowness, Suffering, Selflessness, Stability, Stillness, Serenity. This makes for a smooth, strong fabric.

Not heavy black rayon, but just simple, natural, fiber fabric of some soft shade that is serene--that whispers simplicity.  Just simplicity, that is all I seek by God's help, in self and others.  Genuine, slow, still, serene simplicity--no need to seek further than peaceful simplicity--and God shows Himself.

I have not the need, desire nor energy to keep up with intensity.  Lord, let me find sublimity in the softness of the Nine S'.  They suffice to support daily and nightly practice of the Gospels.  Some day, if out on a walk, and I see either of the two monks or abbot about, I can offer a simple, loving "hello".  But I have not wandered that direction up the road in months.  I have ceased looking for, or perhaps expecting, others to bring me "home."  Religious life and positions can become rather a complex business. 

Perhaps Anthony of the Desert became busy and rushed, the more people came to his hut?  Did Benedict rue the day his hermit life became disrupted?  Wasn't it something like two short years before his life changed to that of being well on his way as abbot of a religious order, writing rules and being responsible for many followers?  (And the more the rules, the more are infractions, the more corrections are needed, and then more enforcement.) 

It seems thus, but none of that is for me.  I am not seeking in the rushed, the complicated, the busy, the organized--which might so easily become another form of temporal structure.  Too much of that type of energy dust has been shaken out of me.  Cannot people be inspired to God with simply simple simplicity?  I pray so.

Today, across the road, a tan mare and her likewise tan filly are newly arrived and grazing in the pasture.  I wonder if there will be five horses now, or if the two I do not see now, have been taken to a different farm for boarding.

These horses, grazing and meandering about the field, have become my daily view of simplicity.  With the break of dawn, I can make out their shapes across the road in the pasture.  Sometimes they are laid out on the grass.  Other times they take their usual position of neck craned forward, head down, silently nibbling, nibbling.  They slowly amble to another area of nibble-worthy grass.  Sometimes in inclement weather, I see someone has placed garments upon their backs to give protection.

The horses more state the appeal for the humble lessons of life.   They live sumptuously simple lives.   Their pace is softly gentle, their communication mostly silent, their existence sincerely serene.  They mostly pass unnoticed in their natural coats and habitat.