Abba Antony said to Abba Poemen: “This is the great work of a person: always to take the blame for one’s own sins before God and to expect temptation to one’s last breath.”
Would you survive a zombie apocalypse? (Without discussing the likelihood of such an event or the possibility of the walking dead.)
Maybe I would struggle! I have no practical skills. So I think I would be some zombie’s lunch before I could starve. Maybe I could lock the doors and just live as I do now? But I would still starve. The library would come in handy for heating. But a complete collection of Kierkegaard’s works will be of little practical help. The person who has read the complete collection even less. I would still starve. My phone would quickly become a paperweight and I would struggle without coffee. Maybe I could survive a little but not long? I would most certainly not thrive in such a context. I am not a fighter, nor a leader, nor a motivator of people. I would starve.
If this zombie apocalypse would happen, what would remain of this life? Money? Paper money may serve another purpose. Yet the numbers on a computer somewhere would be absolutely useless. No more internet so no way to pay with my phone. Time? The sun would still rise but after all the batteries have run out, would there still be an 11:00 am meeting? Would there still be a church? Would there be theological debates about the nature of the current issue?
So, with this possible scenario before me, what really matters now? What is simply for this time and place (contingent) and what would be useful in a zombie apocalypse? To what extent is my life now defined by contingent things and ideas? As a follower of Jesus, there is a time coming when “heaven and earth” will pass away and will be no more. Then what will remain? So maybe the question is not so much about zombies?
When I started living alone, in my current context, I remember thinking, “Now I can relax!”. Solitude, at first, can seem like an escape. “Peace is to be alone”, at least for some people. Freedom to move and be as you desire without outside obligations.
Yet what I have discovered is the opposite. Solitude is conflict. There is nothing here to distract me from me. My memories are what I bring into the cell. And, for me, these memories often mean pain and hurt. There is nothing to distract, nothing to darken the memories, nothing to ease the pain.
What do I do to forget? Do I want to forget or is my purgatory these memories? I have found only one prayer, “Lord Jesus, have mercy on me”. And to forget? Remember Jesus on the cross! Enter into the mystery of the Incarnation by answering (or attempting to) the question, “Do you turn to Jesus?”.
I am reading several books by Sister Benedicta Ward SLG. Her order, the Sisters of the Love of God, is the closest to the ideals of the Desert Christians within Anglicanism. In one of her books (well, actually the introduction), she makes the following point:
They were people who did without: not much sleep, no baths, poor food, little company, ragged clothes, hard work, no leisure, absolutely no sex, and even, in some places, no church either—a dramatic contrast of immediate interest to those who lived out the Gospel differently.
The Desert Of The Heart: Daily Readings with the Desert Fathers
The Desert Christians did without the church! There is, I think, a parallel between the Abraham of Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling – a person before religion – and the Christians of the desert – individuals before the institution. These desert dwellers lived (more or less) without the Eucharist – they had a eucharistic life rather than living the Eucharist. Something that strikes me as outside of the experience of modern-day monasticism.
The second point that Ward makes is:
Their name itself, anchorite, means rule-breaker, the one who does not fulfil his public duties.
The Desert Of The Heart: Daily Readings with the Desert Fathers.
A solitary is someone who steps outside the common norm, who does not live like everyone else, and who displays desires that are considered odd. Maybe it is about living outside of the norms in a society and culture where Jesus no longer has a place.
I am reading a book that considers the hermeneutic of the Desert Christians. The author muses on the movement from “text to meaning”. I wonder if this movement is not another example of the Ugly Ditch:
That, then, is the ugly, broad ditch which I cannot get across, however earnestly I have tried to make the leap. If anyone can help me over it, let him do it, I beg him, I adjure him. He will deserve a divine reward from me.
G. E. Lessing
Also, I have been thinking about the meaning that we (I?) assign to contingent “truth”?! In the end (so to say), the abstract wins over the individual and conformity is the only virtue (moral) left.
There are always likely to be some men and women who feel that ‘material’ solitude is essential for their spiritual life. They can no more do without it than without food or drink, and if they are deprived of this isolation their lives become spoilt, cramped, and distorted, and they never find their true vocations. The ‘born solitary’ is drawn to an eremitical life for various reasons, partly natural, partly supernatural. … They discover that they need to separate themselves from their fellow-creatures, in order that their latent powers may have room for expansion and growth, that they may be more fitted so to serve mankind generally.
Solitude and Communion: Papers on the Hermit Life (Fairacres Publications) .
The above is a quote from Peter F Anson’s The Call of the Desert. (A book, btw, I do not own or have read so if anyone wants to donate it to The Anchorage Library please do!!!!). It is quoted in the collection of papers from the 1975 conference on the solitary life. The essays are a must-read for anyone interested in the topic, especially those in the wider Anglican world.
I was struck by the line: “The ‘born solitary’ is drawn to an eremitical life for various reasons, partly natural, partly supernatural“. The vocation of any individual is (partly) a call to use natural gifts for a supernatural end. The inclination of the individual to be alone is not the supernatural end! Or, to look at it slightly differently, a vocation is not a role one plays but a life one lives.
No matter what the gift – music, solitude, art, intellect, caring – it must be pointed to Jesus to become a vocation. St Paul calls it “upbuilding”, as does Kierkegaard. Your “happy place” only becomes a vocation when it is used for the upbuilding of the people of God.
But the Lord said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
10 Elijah replied, “I have zealously served the Lord God Almighty. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed every one of your prophets. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me, too.”
11 “Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 12 And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
And a voice said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
I stumbled across this yesterday. This is a must-watch for those who are interested in the solitary life. Not only is it benefical spiritually but it is beautifully shot and edited. So go forth and watch!
The Church, whose function is to proclaim the Kingdom, is preserved from the folly of compromise with the world, insofar as she heeds and cherishes the strange scandal of the solitary vocation.
“The Biblical Background to the Solitary Life”, Roland Walls, in Solitude and Communion: Papers on the Hermit Life
my solitary life 