Life in a Hermitage

One week ago, I began an new adventure – while on retreat with my brothers and sisters in the Lindisfarne Community I took vows to deepen my commitment to a life of prayer, study, and contemplation, declaring my home to be the Wild Goose Hermitage of the Lindisfarne Community.  It was not what I’d ever expected to be or to do, after all, I’m married with step-children and grandchildren, I teach at a small college, and have friends and relations from California to Northumberland.  What does it mean for a 21^st century Christian to commit to a life of contemplation?

God and Human Bodies

I recently wrote about the cultural and spiritual challenges surrounding women’s bodies.  That essay was prompted by the appearance of the movie version of 50 Shades of Grey, and the implication that sexual violence was somehow enticing or desirable.  In it, I quoted my abbot, Andy Fitz-Gibbon, who wrote, “Violence is always a failure to love.”  I agree, and I believe that statement applies to physical violence perpetrated against another, such as rape, or emotional violence visited upon oneself, as in criticizing every bite we take or day we do not exercise.  I also believe it applies to the standards of beauty to which women in our culture are held.

A Practicing Theologian

I’ll be finishing my dissertation soon.  In just a few months I will complete the process of researching a particular area of theological discourse, with the goal of establishing myself as a professional theologian.  But what sort of theologian am I? 

 

By definition, a theologian speaks from within a particular religious tradition, and I can certainly say that I think and work within a Christian framework.  Most theologians speak from a particular ecclesiastical community as well – Catholic, or Reformed, or Orthodox.  Here, I fit less well.  I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, spent some very fruitful time as an Episcopal priest, and now belong to an independent neo-monastic community.  We have some wise and thoughtful theologians among us in the Lindisfarne Community, but I don’t know that the wider world would recognize us as a ‘school’ or ‘movement’ quite yet.

After the Surrender

It’s been a while since I wrote about the power of surrender, about choosing to “lay down this fight” in which my body was the battlefield, not only for others to wage their wars of domination, but where I attempted to conquer my own physical being, and not out of love but out of loathing.

It’s been a while since I made that choice, and for a few weeks I was able to rest in that place of surrender, trusting that God would bring healing to the deep self-inflicted hurts that had been brought to light.

I Surrender

My last blog post addressed the issue of sexual violence that had been done to me in the past.  Long resolved, though not forgotten, it was important to bring my personal experience to the discussion of violence and misogyny in the popular culture.

There was a moment, though, a quick phrase that appeared in that blog that afterwards made me pause.  It was a passing mention of “body image” issues and concerns about weight, something I felt in the moment would be familiar to most women, as well as to those men who are sufficiently aware of the concerns of the women in their lives.  I caught myself up short, though, when I realized that those issues were an indication that the violence that had been done to my body wasn’t just coming from the outside.  I had been doing it to myself for as long as I can remember.

God and Women's Bodies

The current conversation surrounding women’s bodies and how women are to be regarded is becoming more and more disturbing.  It’s a topic that comes very close to home for me, and I want to connect my experience with the emerging theology of unity that I’ve been developing in this blog. 

First, I need to share a bit of my past – not only do I have the usual body image and weight concerns, but I am a survivor of marital rape.  My first husband (now deceased) was an alcoholic who needed to exploit my body sexually just to reassure himself that he was alive.  At least, that’s what my therapist said.  For myself, I can say that I got told what I wanted, and in an effort to be a good and loving wife I went along with things I should never have allowed.  But all of that is in retrospect. 

Is there a gap or isn't there?

Still wondering about the question of whether there is a gap between us and God, or not.

I got very excited a week or so ago by a post from Fr. Richard Rohr, whose alternative theology is quite engaging.  You'll find the post here.  In short, he suggest that in the book of Genesis, God's first two gestures are acts of separating: light from dark, and waters above from waters below.  And these acts are not called "good," "tov" in Hebrew, as God does for other acts of creation.