The life of a hermit in the 21st century seems odd, incongruous, at the opposite of the materialistic modern life. Still, it’s a way of life that appeals to more and more people, and there are hermits and solitaries living throughout the United States, in cities and rural areas -- some drawn to solitude in retreat from the cacophony of television, cellphones and other perceived nuisances of the so-called modern life, others seeking silence and solitude to further their dedication to a contemplative spiritual or religious life.
“The hermit’s life seems very simple, but it’s very complex -- like a diamond, it’s a single stone, but with many facets,” says Brother Luke, who took his vows in 1999 to become the first ordained hermit in the Austin, TX, diocese but was living as a hermit since 1996.
Brother Michael Cook, a lay hermit in the Little Brothers of Jesus, estimates that there are more than 3,000 hermits in the United States affiliated with his order. Many are former professionals: some work as artists, others make items to sell, or are supported by religious congregations or patrons.
For many years there has been a priesthood crisis in the Catholic Church, and this lack of vocations to become priest or nun stands in sharp contrast with the call for eremitic life answered by many. The Catholic church is importing priests and nuns from distant dioceses to fill the void: in the Temple, TX, church, for example, the officiating priest is from India.
The Catholic church finally recognized the importance of the phenomenon, and in 1983 acknowledged it in a set of dispositions contained in Canon 603 of the new Code of Canon Law, a mechanism to provide vows for a form of consecrated eremitic life.
Some see it as an attempt to control the hermits wishing to take vows, as they must submit a plan of life to be approved by the diocesan bishop.
If hermits and solitaries are popping up everywhere, their growing numbers do not make them obvious, as by definition they shun publicity and the limelight. But the phenomenon is not a pure product of Christianity and it can be seen as well as being induced by modern society.
Hermits and solitaries come from all walks of life: Johannes and Christian Zinzendorf have a dream of establishing a laura (hermits living separately on the same grounds but sharing some common facilities) in the middle of rural Pennsylvania. But with a twist: they are atheists, and gay. And they want their community of hermits to be composed of people sharing the same interests.
For Navajo artist and activist in the Native American Church Virgil J. Nez, being a solitary is part of the traditions he embraces, and it came gradually to him that to pursue his interest in art and religion the life of a solitary was the only obvious solution. “I was born like that,” he says, “but it’s getting worse because of my connections with sacredness.”
As for Don Bryant, a 79-year-old man who moved to the Chihuahuan Desert in 1984, the call was the urge to build something that will last. He lives now in one of the last places in the United States qualifying for the legal term of ‘Frontier’: two or fewer people per square mile. Alone, except for twenty goats and eight dogs, he is building geodesic domes. The first one, a kind of test, he designed to shelter his goats and perfect his skills. He is now working on what will be his permanent residence. And he means permanent: “Architects always plan buildings to last 25 years, so they can do more. Mine will last.” His move to the desert was also the result of his brand of logic: “If the general public goes one direction, it makes sense to go the other direction.”
Others have a deep religious calling. Sister Jeanne McNulty went to West Virginia. She arrived in 1976, a 34-year-old Franciscan nun “with one hundred dollars and no place to go,” leaving behind Chicago and the years spent working in the inner cities, caring for the most defavorized. She realized that she didn’t fit in any institution, that solitude was the answer and would provide time for prayer and contemplation. A succession of fortunate events, following a period of begging for food and bare necessities, landed her in the middle of the woods, with a house where she could live in exchange for repairs and maintenance. She now owns the place, expanded with a chapel and another little building into which another Franciscan nun, Sister Barbara, moved in 1986. She supports herself weaving scarves, and through a stipend sent to her anonymously every month.
Adele Chatelain, a Buddhist hermit who lives in a Philadelphia apartment believes “a lot of people would be less neurotic if they knew they can follow this kind of life. I think there is a desperate need out there to know there are other lifestyles than Madison Avenue.”
Whatever the motivation, a constant emerges from discussions with the hermits and solitaries who ‘make it’: becoming a hermit or a solitary is not an intellectual decision, but a realization developing over the years and recognized as a logical solution to life’s incertitudes and questioning.
And “the secret to our life is to pass unnoticed”, adds Brother Michael Cook.
As one hermit puts it: “The question is: are you running from something, or to something. If it’s from something, it is not going to work.”
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